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REESE  LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


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The  California  Pioneer 


OTHER    POEMS. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/californiapioneeOObaldrich 


THE 


California  Pioneer 


OTHE  R     POE  MS. 


LIZZIE   F.  BALDY. 


;UNIVER3ITTJ 


GALIFORNlAi, 


San  Francisco  : 

Bacon  &  Company,  Book  and  Jol)  Prlntere. 

1879. 


Cll^z 


^XJNIVERSITT; 


JEDICATION. 


My     Bi^other, 

WILLIAM    B.  WALLACE. 


Los  Angeles, 

March,  1879. 


CONTENTS. 


The  California  Pioneer,          .            -  .              9 

Temperance  Poem,               -            -            -  -      33 

Our  National  Day,       -            -            -  -            38 

Maud,             -            -            -            -            -  -      41 

The  Sea,              .            .            .            .  -            45 

The  Broken  Ring,  -            -            -            -  -      48 

Echoes,    -            -            -            -            -  -           50 

To  A  Picture,           -                        -            -  -      52 

The  Old  Log  Church,               -            -  -            54 

Lulu,                          -   ^^^  i  .  ■ -^^^^    -  57 

UlTIMAMENTO,         -     /^'^''^^^OFTH^'^^^^^  '                 ^^ 

Two  Voices,            fuHIVERSITTj  "      ^^ 

Clara,      -  -  V      -^^^  ojp-     .,. 

Impromptu,    -           ^^-^S^UfOBNlV^  ^^ 

Love,        ...--.  70 

Mary,             -            .            -            -            -  -      73 

Lethe,      --...-  76 

**The  River  of  Li!.the,"     -            -            -  -      78 

Unrest,    ------  81 

To  M.  R.  R., 83 

A  Warning,         ...            -  .            86 

Beside  the  Sea,       -            -            -            -  -      89 

A  Birthday  Poem,          -                        -  -            92 

The  Rainbow,           -            -            -            -  -      94 

Twilight  Musings,          -            -            -  -            96 

Mother,  Home,  and  Heaven,        -            -  -      99 

The  Boy's  Request,        .            .            -  .          100 


CONTENTS. 


By  the  Window, 

-     102 

Among  the  Roses, 

104 

Carrie,           .            .            -            . 

-     106 

Beautiful  Bay,  -            -            - 

108 

What  Though? 

-     110 

Baby  Lizzie,        -            .            -            . 

111 

Willie,         .            .            -            . 

-     113 

A  Garland,         .            -            _            . 

115 

Lines  to  Addie, 

-     117 

In  Memoriam,      .            -            - 

120 

Isolation,      -            -            -            - 

-     122 

When  my  Ship  Comes  in  from  Sea, 

125 

No  God,         .            _            _            . 

-     127 

Orange  Blossoms, 

130 

Refrain,         _           .            -            . 

-     132 

Dead  Hopes,        .            .            - 

134 

The  Brook,  -            -            -            - 

-     136 

Robes,      .            -            -            - 

138 

Little  Lu,     - 

-     140 

Mamma's  Kiss,     -            -            - 

141 

Death's  River, 

-     142 

The  Orphan's  Prayer, 

144 

Spring,           .            .            .            . 

-     145 

Pity,         -            - 

146 

Too  Late,      -            -                        - 

-     149 

Lines,        -            -            .            - 

151 

Los  Angeles, 

-     153 

Shadows, 

156 

California,  -            -            -            - 

-     158 

[^UKIVERSITTJ 


¥lie   d^ifoi^nik   f^ioiieer. 


GOOD  NIGHT!     Good  night!     I  cannot  rest; 
the  old  yet  sweet  refrain 

Calls  up  the  phantoms  of  the  past  to  throng  my 
weary  brain. 

'T  was  twenty  years  ago  to-night,  I  left  my  eastern 
home 

A  boy  with  heart  as  buoyant   as  the  light  ocean 
foam. 

A  mother's  tender  kiss  was  pressed  upon  my  beard- 
less face ; 

E'en  now  I  see  the  pleading  eyes  of  my  sweet  sister 
Grace, 

And  feel  her  arms   around  my  neck  just  as  they 
were  of  yore; 

She  came   and  tried  to  win  me  back,  outside  the 
kitchen  door — 

"  Oh,  brother   darling !    do   not  go  to  California's 
shore ; 

We  love  you — do  not  risk   your  life   for  all   her 
golden  ore. 

Stay  with  us — stay  on  the  old  farm  ;  father  is  grow- 
ing old, 

And  half  the  anguish  of  her  lieart  motlier's  face 
hath  not  told. 
2 


10  THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER. 

The   silver  threads    are  creeping   fast   among   her 

locks  of  brown, — 
Ah!  would  you  give  her  loving  voice  for  all  the 

world's  renown  ? 
Stay !  brother,  stay !     Oh,  do  not  leave   the  dear 

old  pleasant  farm 
With  all  its  recollections  sweet — here  you  are  safe 

from  harm." 
She  twined  her  arms  around  my  neck,  and  thought 

to  win  me  back ; 
But  we  have  eager  hearts  in  youth  for  the  adven- 
turous track. 
"  No,  sister,  no  !  I  cannot  stay — but  I  will  soon  re- 
turn. 
And    you    shall    have  a   portion,   dear,  of   all    the 

wealth  I  earn. 
Then  there  is  May — bright,  bonny  May — make  glad 

her  lonely  life ; 
She  said  she'd  wait  for  my  return,  and  then  she'd 

be  my  wife." 
It  seems  so  strange  to  think  to-night  of  all  the  days 

long  dead — 
How  I  stood  at  the  garden  gate,  and  held  INIay's 

golden  head 
Upon  my  shoulder,  and  we  spoke  the  dear  old  vows 

once  more ; 
I  came  to  win  May's  fortune  when  I  sought  the 

Golden  Shore. 

We  sailed  next  day ;  there  were  just  five  from  out 

my  native  town. 
'Twas  the  fairest  day  of  all  the  year — Nature  had 

not  a  frown 


THE    CALIFORNIA   PIONEER.  U 


Upon  her  face ;   our  hearts  were  light ;   we  were 

sure  of  success ; 
We  thought   the  brave  old    ship  was   good;    nor 

would  we  doubt  confess. 
'T  was  on  mid-ocean,  far  from  land,  the  awful  storm 

came  down — 
The  white-caps  leaping  in  the  air  obeyed  the  Storm 

Fiend's  frown. 
Until  the  good  ship  creaked  and  groaned  just  like 

a  living  thing ; 
Some  knelt  and  prayed  unto  their  God,  and  some 

stood  shuddering 
To  see  the  white  waves  leap  the  deck,  the  lightning 

cleave  the  sky, 
While   all  around  was   darkest  night — the  waves 

rolled  mountain  high. 
The  captain's  voice  was  heard  above  the  thundering 

of  the  storm : 
"Come,  come! — be   quick!"  the    captain  cried — 

'twas  he  gave  the  alarm — 
"  Cut  loose  the   boats,  and  fill  them  all ;   the  old 

ship  will  go  down  ! 
The  women  and  the  children  first ! "  he  said  it  with 

a  frown. 
For  men  were  pressing  forward  fast,  all  eager  for 

the  boat ; 
It  seemed  like  ages  unto  us  ere  she  began  to  float. 
One  woman  and  her  child  were  left — a  lady  fair  and 

frail ; 
She  went  into  the  boat  with  us,  the  last  one  left  to 

sail. 
The  ship  went  down  ;  the  captain  stood  upon  her 

reeling  prow. 


12  THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER. 

And  calmly  given  was  each  command ;  he  was  the 
last  to  go. 

We  floated  off ;  each  boat  was  full,  yet  three  went 
down  that  night ; 

And  the  Storm  King  lost  his  fury  before  the  morn- 
ing light, 

When  Aurora  hung  her  curtains  of  gold  o*er  the 
glowing  east, 

Ere  King  Sol  let  fall  his  yellow  ray  o'er  Neptune's 
troubled  breast. 

Each  one  looked  forth  with  eager  eyes  scanning  the 
horizon  in  vain. 

Naught  met  our  view  but  the  fragments  strewn 
upon  the  surging  main. 

All  that  was  left  of  the  good  old  ship — the  mer- 
maids stole  the  rest. 

Before  us  floated  a  small  cask,  behind  us  was  a 
chest. 

Worth  more  than  all  the  wealth  of  earth  to  us  poor 
famished  few. 

The  water  shut  within  the  cask  was  fresh  as  spark- 
ling dew ; 

The  chest  contained  the  bread ;  we  sought  and 
reached  the  precious  two. 

How  sparingly  was  dealt  to  each  their  wee  mite, 
day  by  day, 

And  yet  how  fast  our  little  all,  how  fast  it  passed 
away. 

Here  mother  love,  stronger  than  death,  thought 
only  of  her  child. 

And  every  day  her  portion  saved  for  him  she  loved 
so  wild ; 


THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER.  13 

And  prayed  as  only  women  pray,  when  all  they 

love 's  at  stake  : 
"  Oh !  Father,  watch  and  save  us  all,  for  the  dear 

Savior's  sake. 
No  sail  in  sight,  oh !    God  of  love,  have  mercy  on 

us  all." 
Only  the  sea-birds  in  the  air  echoed  the  maddened 

call. 
No  water  save  the  great  salt  sea — no  bread — all,  all 

is  gone, 
And  the  gaunt  specter  Hunger  lurks,  while  we  float 

hopeless  on. 
Now  Death  is  drawing  closer  still ;  is  there  indeed 

no  God  ? 
Oh !  for  a  glimpse  of  the  bright  earth,  one  sight  of 

'    the  green  sod. 
The  mother  clasped  her  darling  child  and  wildly 

prayed  for  him  :  * 

"  Oh !  look  once  more,  good  Captain,  look !  far  o'er 

the  ocean's  rim 
Is  th^re  no  sail  in  sight?     I  pray,  dear  Father,  save 

my  child ! — 
I  cannot,  cannot  give  him  up,  unto  the  waters  wild." 

The  sharks  slowly  followed  the  boat,  waiting  their 

human  prey ; 
Yet  all  the  night  we  prayed  to  God,  and  all  the 

endless  day — 
That  He  would  send  some  help  to  us,  over  the  great 

salt  sea, 
But  when  the  tenth  sun  dawned  in  heaven  three 

weary  souls  were  free ; 


14  THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER. 

Their  emaciated   forms   still   lay   touched   by   the 

snowy  wave ; 
The  rest  had  not  the  strength  to  give  the  dead  a 

watery  grave. 
Then  we  had  ceased  to  pray  for  life,  and  calmly 

waited  death ; 
There  was  no  hope,  we  thought,  except  to  stop  each 

weary  breath. 
The  other  boats  had  drifted  off,  we  know  not  where 

they  went. 
The  mother  still  clasped  her  pale  boy,  her  life  was 

almost  spent ; 
She  seemed  to  cling  to  it  for  him ;  for  self,  she  had 

no  thought. 
Oh  !  the  pure  strength  of  mother  love,  what  wonder 

it  hath  wrought ; 
For  when  he  wildly  prayed  for  bread,  and  we  had 

none  to  give. 
She  brought  the  portion  she  had  saved,  starving 

that  he  might  live  ; 
And  when  the  eleventh  sun  appeared,  and  "  Water  " 

was  his  cry, 
She  cut  the  vein  of  her  white  arm,  and  prayed  he 

might  not  die. 
Then  God  looked  down  and  heard  her  prayer,  a 

white  sail  met  her  view, — 
Rose  like  a  tiny  bird  of  white  far  o'er  the  ocean 

blue; 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  ship,  and   though   I 

know  not  why. 
But  yet,  I  think  within  our  hearts  we'd  rather  she'd 

passed  by. 


THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER,  15 

Perhaps  it  was  because  we  were  so  near  the  other 

shore, 
Death  brought  no  terrors  unto  us,  the  fearful  past 

was  o'er. 
And  yet  the  vessel  nearer  came,  till  strong  and  will- 
ing hands 
Caught   up   the   dying  from  our  boat,  and  broke 

Death's  chilly  bands. 
'T  was  then  the  glad  cry  of  the  child,  "  Oh !  mother, 

help  is  nigh ! 
Speak,  mother,  speak !  open  your  eyes,  the  stately 

ship  is  by ; 
You  prayed  so  long,  oh,  mother,  dear,  that  God  has 

heard  at  last, — 
You  always  said  that  He  would  keep  us  in  that 

dreadful  past ; 
And  here  is  life,  and  meat,  and  drink,  we  shall  not 

want  again. 
Oh  !   mother,  speak !   oh !    mother,   smile, — why  is 

that  look  of  pain 
Upon  your  face  when  all  are  saved  ?  "     He  fondly 

raised  her  head. 
And  oh !  the  wild  sad  cry  of  pain  when  he  saw  she 

was  dead. 
The  stout  hearts  of  those  hardened  men  wept  for 

that  child's  deep  grief. 
Yet  all  the  comfort  they  could  give  brought  to  him 

no  relief. 
He  clung  around   that   loved   one's   form  with   a 

broken  heart's  despair. 
And  many  a  loving,  pleading  word  rang  through  the 

salt  sea  air. 

1  university;. 


16  THE    CALIFORNIA   PIONEER, 

Oh,  Death,  who  breaks  so  many  hearts  and  giveth 

the  weary  rest, 
Why  is  it  in  our  ignorance  we  know  not  what  is 

best? 
He  watcheth  where  our  feet  may  tread  o'er  land  or 

ocean  wild, 
And  the  same  loving,  tender  care  he  gives  unto  each 

child. 
And  lifting  upward  our  hearts  in  darkness  and  de- 
spair, 
We  feel  our  Father's  loving  hand  ;  His  voice  steals 

through  the  air, 
And  whispers  to  each  breaking  heart,  "  Tired  spirit, 

peace,  be  still ! 
There  is  a  world  beyond  this  realm  where  Peace 

and  Love  fulfil 
The    dreams   that   you    have   lost    on    earth;   the 

thoughts  here  most  sublime 
Shall  there  outshine  with  grander  light  the  master 

strokes  of  Time." 

We  rounded  into  the  Golden  Gate  over  the  ocean 
bar 

Into  the  city  young  and  fair  that  had  been  our  lead- 
ing star ; 

Into  the  city  foul  with  sin,  close  to  the  Mission 
gray, 

Where  many  a  holy  Jesuit  priest  had  bowed  his 
head  to  pray. 

O'er  the  sand  hills  bare  and  bleak  the  fog-mist 
floated  in 

Like  a  wraith  of  sorrow  stealing  away  from  the 
city's  noisy  din. 


THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER.  17 

The  wings  of  morning  brought  the  light  from  out 

the  eastern  sky, 
As  we  heard  the  captain's  harsh  command,  the  sail- 
ors' quick  reply. 
Up  to  the  wharf,  where  a  motley  crew  of  people 

met  our  view. 
She  gave  her  living  cargo  up  -  the  false  ones  and 

the  true. 
A  few  hearts  on  the  good  old  ship  were  knit  so 

close  together 
That   we   had  sworn    to  never   part   in   bright  or 

stormy  weather. 
Although  we  each  one  came  for  gold,  yet  kind  and 

friendly  feeling 
Could   not   be  kept   by  yellow  dust  from  o'er  us 

gently  stealing. 
The   shipwreck  on  the  stormy  seas,  the   troubles 

there  unnumbered. 
Were  hidden  .close  within  each  heart  where  Mem- 
ory never  slumbered. 
The  orphan  boy  left  to  our  charge  had  drawn  our 

hearts  around  him 
"Until  it  seemed  as  though  each  soul  was  one  more 

link  that  bound  him 
And  bound  us  all  together,  too.     We  stept  upon 

the  shore. 
And  through  the  city  white  with  tents  our  little 

band  of  four 
Went  onward  in  its  restless  march  after  the  golden 

treasure. 
Up  through  the  dry  and  sandy  streets,  with  steps 

whose  restless  measure 
2* 


18  THE    CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

Kept  time  with  the  quick-throbbing  hearts,  and  led 
us  up  the  river 

To  Sacramento's  tented  town,  where  many  a  hard- 
ened driver 

Urged  forth  his  slow  and  patient  team :  to  us  the 
sight  was  novel ; 

In  ox  team  and  its  tented  wagon,  a  strange,  quaint 
way  to  travel ; 

Yet  those  who  sought  the  mining  towns  took  this 
or  any  way. 

For  every  body  was  well  met,  and  every  heart  was 
gay-T- 

A  country  new  in  everything  brings  down  upon  a 
level — 

So  fine  and  coarse,  and  high  and  low,  joined  in  the 
golden  revel. 

Even  the  name  we  brought  from  home  for  years 
was  never  heard ; 

'Twas  "Yankee  Jim,"  and  "Old  Kentuck,"  with 
many  a  strange,  quaint  word. 

While  traveling  up  the  dusty  road  o'er  Sacramen- 
to's plain. 

Our  orphan  boy  became  the  pet  of  the  gold-hunters' 
train. 

The  Saxon  beauty  of  his  face,  his  manner  tinged 
with  sadness, 

Seemed  such  a  contrast  to  the  place,  and  to  the 
men's  rough  gladness. 

We  traveled  onward  up  the  road  through  many  a 
mining  camp, 

Until  wo  reached  the  little  town  just  as  the  even- 
ing damp 


THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER.  19 

And  chilling  dew  fell  over  all ;  and  bright  the  camp- 
fire  burning 
Lit  up  the  Mecca  of  our  hopes,  to  which  our  steps 

were  turning. 
Unlike  a  weary   pilgrim  band  we  waited  for  the 

morning 
With  hearts  impatient,  hopes  all  high,  untouched 

by  failure's  warning. 
We  threw  our  blankets  on  the  ground  to  dream  of 

nuggets  hiding 
Within  the  pockets  of  our  claim,  where  they  had 

long  been  biding. 
And  with  the  morning  light  awoke.     There,  circled 

by  the  hills. 
Was    Hangtown    with   her   hidden    wealth;    and 

through  the  morning's  still 
And  quiet  beauty  swept   the  wind  through  forest 

ranks  of  pine. 
Above,  the  sunrise  brilliant  tints  traced  by  the  hand 

divine ; 
The  sweet  scent  of  the  chapparal ;  the  manzanita's* 

bloom ; 
The  flowers  of  every  hue  that  fell  from  Nature's 

wondrous  loom. 
The  picture  filled  our  hearts  with  awe ;  the  mock- 
ing bird's  rich  song 
Seemed  a  fit  authem  for  the  State  so  young,  so  fair, 

and  strong. 

We  pitched  our  tents  beside  the  stream. 
Just  where  the  red  sun's  first  bright  beam 
Lit  up  the  little  mining  camp ; 


20  THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

And  where  the  air  was  cool  and  damp, 

E'en  in  the  heat  of  summer  time. 

Here,  in  our  semi-tropic  clime, 

Where  perfumed  flowers  of  every  hue 

Greeted  the  early  miner's  view, 

And  where  the  bird  on  golden  wing 

Essayed  the  gayest  song  to  sing ; 

Here,  where  the  pine-tree  and  the  oak 

Concealed  the  squirrel,  which  awoke 

And  fled  through  cedar,  flr,  and  yew. 

In  vain  to  escape  the  miner's  view. 

Prospecting  over  hill  and  dale, 

From  early  dawn  until  the  pale 

Stars  shine  in  their  far  azure  home, 

To  watch  the  eager  wanderer  roam. 

The  claim  is  found,  it  prospects  well, 

And  conjectures  too  wild  to  tell. 

Are  talked  of  round  the  evening  fire ; 

The  theme  of  which  they  did  not  tire, 

Of  all  the  wealth  long  hidden  there. 

Ah,  wondrous  castles  built  in  air. 

The  sluices  to  be  bought  and  made. 

The  picks  and  shovels,  if  it  paid ; 

The  way  that  we  would  work  it,  too, 

The  cabin  we  would  build  in  view 

Of  this  great  claim,  beneath  the  tree 

Which  spread  its  giant  arms  so  free. 

Forming  a  canopy  of  green 

Through  which  the  sun-rays  looked  between. 

Yes,  there  was  much  indeed  to  do. 

The  work  was  plenty,  hands  were  few ; 

So  with  the  lumber  on  the  ground. 


THE   CALIFORNIA    PIONEER.  21 

And  nails  and  hammers  scattered  round, 

Our  merry  hearts  that  beat  as  light 

As  the  wild  bird  with  plumage  bright, 

Which  roars  above  our  mortal  eyes, 

Until  it  seems  to  pierce  the  skies. 

Then  we  went  to  work  each  with  a  will, — 

Nor  all  day  long  was  the  hammer  still. 

Until  the  sun,  sinking  down  to  rest. 

Hung  her  golden  curtains  o'er  the  west ; 

Then  we  clustered  round  the  great  camp-fire. 

To  talk  of  the  claim,  while  the  flames  leaped 

higher. 
Perchance  in  the  background  a  grizzly's  eyes 
Would  glare  at  us  miners  in  sullen  surprise. 

'Twas  a  motley  crew  met  in  that  small  place. 
There  were  men  from  every  clime  and  race, — 
Gentle  and  passionate,  proud  and  cold, — 
Gentleman,  ruffian,  seeking  for  gold. 
Mingling  all  round  the  camp-fire  bright. 
Watching  the  welkin  above  all  white. 
Thinking  of  loved  ones  left  at  home, — 
Praying  ever  for  their  return ; — 
Watching  the  cedar  embers  burn. 
Counting  the  days  since  the  salt  sea  foam. 
Reaching  his  white  arm  up  to  the  land. 
Bore  them  away  from  that  loving  band. 
What  tears  were  shed ;  what  prayers  were  said, 
Murmured  lowly  as  o'er  the  dead ; 
Beautiful  lips  grew  ashen  pale ; 
Beautiful  hands  so  small  and  frail 
Held  them  fast  with  a  clasp  of  love, 


22  THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

Praying  the  angels  in  heaven  above 
Carefully  watch  o'er  the  wanderers  here. 

Beautiful  eyes,  not  sorrow's  tear 
Need  you  shed  for  the  wanderers  here. 
Beautiful  lips,  no  prayer  of  thine 
Can  win  them  back  o'er  the  ocean's  brine ; 
And  yet,  perchance  as  the  years  roll  round, 
Their  hearts  will  list  for  the  happy  sound 
They  heard  long  ago  in  childhood's  home 
Ere  their  feet  had  learned  from  thence  to  roam. 
Oh  !  to  see  once  more  my  mother's  face  ; 
My  sister  rich  in  her  girlish  grace ; 
And  to  hear  my  father's  blessing  said 
'Mid  the  little  throng.     Ah  !  some  are  dead  ; 
And  some  by  the  promise  of  wealth  are  led 
From  the  dear  old  home. 

Built  but  of  rough,  unhewn  logs,  the  miners'  cabin 

stood 
Beside  the  little  rippling  stream  which  wandered 

through  the  wood  ; 
Scarce  six  feet  high,  with  but  one  room,  that  only 

eight  by  ten  ; 
A  chimney  reaching  half  across  gave  warmth  unto 

the  men 
When  after  the  day's  work  was  done  we  sat  there 

grouped  around. 
And  talked  of  homes  so  far  away  as  consecrated 

ground. 
The  thoughts  of  loved  ones  over  there  beyond  the 

ocean's  billows 


THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER.  23 

Had  often  caused  our  hearts  a  sigh,  and  sometimes 

stained  our  pillows ; 
Yet  we  bravely  worked  and  well  in   that  humble 

dwelling; 
We  burnt  and  weighed  the  golden  dust  while  our 

hearts  were  swelling 
With   such  wild  rapture  for  the  love  which  kept 

our  lives  so  pure. 
We  ever  prayed  to  Him  in  faith  for  patience  to  en- 
dure 
Tiie   little   time   that  we   should   dwell   upon   the 

Golden  Shore; 
But  oh !  the  years  we  wanted  short  have  grown  to 

full  a  score. 
We  talked  with  many  loving  words  of   wife,  and 

child,  and  mother ; 
And  he  who  clasped  a  miner's  hand  was  treated 

like  a  brother. 
There  was  no  haughty  creed,  or  caste ;   no  social 

laws  which  parted 
Man  from  man  in  the  Golden  State — the  miner  was 

free-hearted. 
And  he  who  reached  those  early  camps,  seeking  for 

help  in  need. 
Was  always  sure  from  liberal  hands  to  find  a  friend 

in  deed. 

The  old  log-cabin  by  the  stream  is  but  a  wreck  to- 
day, 

And  twenty  years  have  come  and  gone  down  Time's 
relentless  way. 

Ah,  me !  what  human  hearts  may  bear,  and  human 
hands  may  weave ! 


24  THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

How  weary  eyes  may  long  for  home,  and  weary 
souls  may  grieve ! 

What  magic  tie  hath  held  us  here,  there  are  few  to- 
day could  tell ; 

The  enchantment  of  those  early  days  still  holds  its 
mystic  spell. 

Many  a  claim  has  been  worked  out,  and  many  an 
ounce  of  gold 

Has  dropped  from  out  the  crucible  as  from  a  fiery 
mould. 

And  lit  the  hopes  which  rose  so  high:  we  saw  no 
spectral  hand 

Dropping  its  deadly  mantle  down  upon  Love's  dis- 
tant band. 

Slowly  across  the  briny  deep  the  white-winged  mes- 
sage came, 

I  knew  the  letter  there  enclosed  would  bear  my  sis- 
ter's name. 

I  broke  the  seal  with  trembling  hands  as  quick  as 
the  heart-throbs  beat; 

I  never  dreamt  what  fearful  news  my  eager  eyes 
should  meet : 

"'Our  mother's  dead."  Oh !  God,  I  prayed,  take 
back  the  stern  decree. 

What  words  of  awful  agony  went  upward  unto 
Thee. 

'T  was  Grace  who  touched  the  sweet  pale  face  within 
the  coffin  lying, 

While  I  only  prayed  in  anguish  wild,  "  Oh !  God, 
that  I  were  dying." 

She  filled  poor  sister's  little  world,  this  darling 
angel  mother, 


1  u  n  1  \ 

THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER.  25 

And  as  she  kissed  the  dead  white  face,  she  felt 

there  was  no  other. 
We  could  not  see  the  loving  hand,  the  mourner's 

God  and  Father, 
Or  how  with  tender,  noiseless  care  his  angels  he 

doth  gather. 
I  only  felt  in  my  anguished  heart  how  they  took 

her  on  the  morrow, 
And  laid  her  'neath  the  cold,  green  sod.     God,  pity 

our  first  great  sorrow. 
"Our  mother's  dead,"  again  I  trace  those  words 

with  anguish  keen. 
And  see  my  darling   sister's  face,  while  distance 

drops  her  screen. 
'T  was  far  beyond  the  Pacific's  wave,  the  Atlantic's 

snowy  foam. 
She  died,  with  dear  ones  round  her  bed   in  her 

peaceful  Eastern  home. 
And  thus  they  wrote  :  "  She  calmly  died,  so  gently 

passed  away. 
We  hardly  knew  when  she  awoke  unto  God's  eter- 
nal day.'' 
Shall  I  never  see  save  in  memory,  her  loving  face 

so  mild. 
That   ever   turned  a  look  of  love  to  her  restless, 

wayward  child  ? 
Who  knoweth  now  her  spirit  eyes  may  watch  her 

cherished  boy. 
Or  beckon  him  on  with  her  angel  wings  to  her  home 

of  endless  joy. 
God  only  knows,  we  can  but  wait  till  we  hear  our 

Father's  call. 


26  THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

To  take  us  from  this  school  below  to  that  home 

prepared  for  all. 
Time  brought  the  solace  only  He  to  breaking  hearts 

can  bear, 
I  took  the  weary  burden  up  with  all  its  toil  and 

care ; 
Dear  letters  came  from  sister  Grace,  yet  dearer  ones 

from  May, 
She  strove  to  make  my  sorrow  less  in  her  sweet, 

girlish  way; 
She  counted   up  the  months  when  I  should  be  at 

home  once  more. 
And  hinted  something  then  of  Grace  which  I  had 

thought  before — 
How  soon  a  sister  I  should  lose  and  she  a  sister 

gain- 
Yet  while  the  news  brought  joy  to  me  it  held  a 

dash  of  pain ; 
That  May's  brother  and  sister  Grace  should  be  the 

wedded  two. 
Where  May  and  I  had  hoped  to  live  our  love  life 

grand  and  true. 
She  wrote,  "  Come  home,  your  father's  steps  are 

getting  weak  and  slow. 
He  's  old,  we  cannot  know  the  day  when  he  may 

from  us  go ; 
He  says  that  he  must  see  his  boy  just  once  before 

he  dies. 
Come  back,  my  truant  one,  come  back,  and  gladden 

those  dim  eyes — 
And  other  eyes.     Ah !   well  you  know  what  greet- 
ings you  would  win, 


THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER.  27 

Words  cannot  tell,  each  of  us  keeps  so  closely- 
locked  within 

Our  inmost  hearts'  deep  cloister  your  memory  as  a 
shrine, 

Where  I  have  yielded  up  to  you  a  love  almost 
divine." 

May's  letter  woke  within  my  heart  thoughts  I  could 
never  still — 

They  haunted  me  around  the  claim,  and  over  vale 
and  hill ; 

Where'er  I  went  her  sweet,  pale  face  and  wealth 
of  golden  hair 

Was  always  sure  to  be  with  me  a  picture  saintly 
fair ; 

Those  violet  eyes,  how  fair  the  gem  for  which  I 
dared  aspire. 

They  lit  within  my  inmost  heart  Love's  strong  mag- 
netic fire. 

One  night,  when  evening  shadows  fell  athwart  the 

weary  earth. 
We  talked    of   our  rich  placer  claim,  and   of   its 

golden  worth. 
When  sick  at  heart,  I  offered  mine  for  such  a  sum 

I  knew 
I  would  not  be  an  owner  long,  and  yet  the  other 

two 
Condoled  and  argued,  tried   to  find  some  greater 

reason  why 
My  heart  should  reach  across  the  seas  in  answer  to 

love's  cry. 
Yet  when  I'd  sold  my  interest  out,  and  packed  my 

things  to  go. 


28  THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

I  felt  a  throb  of  tender  pain  through  all  my  being 

flow. 
The  boy  whom  three  of  us  had  watched  since  first 

we  reached  the  shore, 
Was  with  us  still,  gi'own  dearer  now  than  he  had 

been  before. 
He  won  his  way  into  our  hearts  until  each  of  us 

thought 
Him  our  own ;  and  future  dreams  with  his  bright 

glory  fraught 
Filled  many  a  waking  hour  of  night,  and  many  a 

long  day. 
So  't  was  the  thought  of  leaving  him  that  checked 

me  on  my  way ; 
And  yet  when  we  had  talked  about  "  our  Paul," 

the  little  waif. 
We  fixed  upon  a  certain  school  where  we  thought 

he'd  be  safe. 
We  had  each  of  us  agreed  to  bear  of  his  expense 

our  share — 
Three  guardians  watching  over  him  with  many  an 

unsaid  prayer. 

I  crossed  the  ocean's  briny  deep,  and  reached  my 

native  land. 
I  sought  my  happy  childhood's  home  with  its  bowed 

and  broken  band. 
My  mother's  face — oh  !   how  I  missed  her  saintly 

presence  there ! 
My  father's  bowed  and  weakened  form,  crowned 

with  his  silver  hair. 
Told  me  the  year  since  mother's  death  had  worn 

upon  him  fast ; 


THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER.  29 

And  well  we  knew  that  soon  for  him  earth's  trials 

would  be  past. 
And  Grace  was  married ;  all  her  life  seemed  filled 

with  acts  of  love. 
With  her  smiling  face  of  girlhood  days,  and  gentle 

ways,  she  wove 
A  magic  circle,  charming  all  within  the  dear  old 

home, 
And  made  the  years  that  1  had  passed  beyond  the 

ocean  foam 
Seem  as  a  dream — a  far-off  dream   of   something 

that  was  not ; 
And  yet  that  fair-haired  boy's  sweet  face  I  never 

quite  forgot. 
I  sought  for  May — my  cherished  May — the  hope  of 

all  my  life ; 
She  who'd  remained  through  all  the  years  my  faith- 
ful promised  wife ; 
Yet  when  I  reached  her  pleasant  home,  the  cottage 

on  the  lea. 
Although  the  flowers  bloomed  as  bright,  a  feeling 

came  to  me 
That   somewhere   in  the  glowing  light  a  shadow 

seemed  to  wait — 
A  feeling  which  will  sometimes  come ;  a  something 

so  innate 
We  cannot   tell  from  whence  it  springs,  or  what 

should  call  it  forth  ; 
It  comes  a  herald  sorrow  sends,  chilling  life's  great- 
est worth. 


30  THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEER. 

I  only  know  my  breaking   heart  could   not  have 

borne  more. 
I  cannot  tell  you  of  the  days  I  spent  within  her 

door ; 
I   saw  her   fading  day  by  day   until   the  autumn 

came, 
And  then  above   a  little  mound   they  carved  my 

darling's  name. 
I  cannot  tell  you  more ;  the  wound  is  just  as  deep 

to-day 
As  'twas  upon  that  autumn  eve  we  watched  her 

pass  away. 
Ah,  me  1    the  sorrow  of  that  day,  deep  hidden  in 

my  breast, 
Lies  like  all  deepest  thoughts  of  life — we  talk  of 

them  the  least. 
The  surface  ripples  with  a  word,  a  smile,  or  frown 

at  will ; 
But  the  stronger  springs  which  move  the  soul  lie 

far  more  deep  and  still. 
I  could  not  stay;  the  dear  old  home  had  lost  its 

charm  for  me ; 
Within  each  tree  and  flower  I  found  links  of  love's 

memory ; 
And  e'en  the  birds  which  sang  so  sweet  caught  up 

love's  broken  cords. 
So  when  Grace  urged  me  to  remain  she  only  wasted 

words. 
I  knew  our  father,  safe  with  her,  would  slowly  sink 

to  rest. 
And — well,  they  had  no  need  of   me;  'twas   only 

love's  request. 


THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER.  31 

Then  once  again  from  out  the  home  where  first  I 

greeted  life 
I  turned  my  feet  into  the  world  to  meet  its  toil  and 

strife, 
Back  to  the  Golden  State  again  where  Paul  was  all 

my  care, 
He  was  my  only  blessing  then ;  and  he  is  with  me 

here. 
No  son  could  give  a  father  more  than  he  has  given 

me, 
For  I  'm  the  only  one  that's  left  out  of  the  watch- 
ful three. 
And  sometimes,  when  I'm  looking  back  through  all 

those  years  of  gloom, 
I  see  a  shadow  of  myself   from  the  past  vapors 

loom ; 
A  homeless,  weary,  aimless  man,  without  a  thought 

of    llOJDC, 

The  darkest  shadow  o'er  my  soul  through  which 

no  light  could  grope, 
'T  was  doubt,  the  doubt  of  everything,  fell  like  a 

mantle  down. 
And  closed  my  soul  as  in  a  spell,  until  my  heart  had 

grown 
So  skeptical  I  almost  thought  and  said  there  was  no 

God: 
That  man  was  nothing,  would  not  rise  above  earth's 

lowest  clod. 
And  so  for  many  weary  months  the  shadows  darker 

grew. 
Until  an  angel  touched  my  soul  and  let  God's  sun- 
light through. 


32  THE    CALIFORNIA    PIONEER. 

'T  was  far  upon  the  border  land  'twixt  this  life  and 

the  other, 
And  when  the  fever  reached  its  height  a  dream  of 

May  and  mother, 
Or  may  be  't  was  their  very  selves,  I  never  yet 

could  tell, 
For  when  I  try  to  think  of  it  there  comes  a  mys- 
tic spell 
Around  the  dream,  or  vision  still ;  yet  through  the 

years  that  came 
Unto  my  lonely  life,  it  left  a  pure  and  holy  name. 
Which  scattered  all  the  shades  of  doubt,  and  now 

I  'm  waiting  here 
Until  another  angel  calls,  and  I  again  draw  near 
The  border  land  which  leads  us  down  the  river's 

damp,  dark  shore, 
Where  we  await  the  boatman's  strokes  to  row  us 

gently  o'er. 


'^'t-V 


TEMPERANCE  POEM,  33 

Written  for  Merrill  Lodge  No.  229,  Los  Angelea. 


BROTHERS  and  Sisters, here  to-night  we  feel 
the  great  fraternal  bands, 
Which  clasp  around  our  Golden  State  sweet  Tem- 
perance's pure  hands, 
From  Siskiyou's   mountains   crowned  with   snow, 

where  Winter  sends  his  fragile  flowers. 
To  where  Los  Angeles'  orange-blooms  throw   the 

perfume  of  her  bridal  bowers ; 
From   north   and   south,  from  east  and  west,  our 

family  circle  gathers  in. 
To  pledge   our   lives  anew  to-night,  to   fight  the 

darkest  form  of  sin: 
To  drive  from  out  the  State  we  love  the  saddest 

curse  of  our  fair  land ; 
To  take  once  more  before  the  world  the  bravest 

boldest,  firmest  stand. 
True  soldiers  in  a  noble  cause, — Faith,  Hope,  and 

Charity ; — we  hold 
The  mystic  three  with    magic  wand,  worth  more 

than  all  Golconda's  gold. 
Faith  holds  the  scepter,  and  we  see  afar  in  future 

years  to  come 
3 


34  TEMPERANCE  POEM. 

Our  Goddess  Temperance,  clothed  in  white,  drive 

Bacchus  from  his  vineyard  home. 
Oh !  may  she  soon  rule  o'er  our  land,  till  every  heart 

shall  sing  her  fame ; 
No  more  the  drunkard's  fiery  cup  shall  steep  the 

souls  of  men  in  shame ; 
No  more  the  little  hands   shall  cling  around   the 

drunken  father's  knee ; 
But  every  household   in  our  land  shall  from  the 

awful  curse  be  free. 
Hope  takes  the  scepter,  and  we  look  abroad  upon 

our  golden  land. 
And  see  the  tiny  hands  that  hold  the  badge  which 

marks  her  youthful  band ; 
These  little  ones  whose  souls  are  pure ;  upon  their 

brows  no  shadow  lies ; 
They  see  earth  redolent  with  flowers  'neath  child- 
hood's sunny  skies ; 
Too  near  to  God  to  feel  the  pain  that  comes  to 

those  of  older  years ; 
They  are  His  chosen  little  ones.     Hope  keeps  them 

from  the  drunkard's  fears. 
Oh,  Temperance   Lodges!   be    it    yours    to  guide 

aright  each  youthful  band ! 
Ye  may  not  know  the  wondrous  zeal  some  little 

word  of  yours  hath  fanned  ; 
Yet  in  the  future  years  to  come,  the  seed  that  you 

have  sown  to-day 
May  blossom  all  around  your  path,  and  shed  its 

perfume  o'er  your  way  ; 
And  when   this  earthly  lodge  is  closed,  and  you 

have  ta'en  the  last  degree, 


TEMPERANCE  POEM,  35 

How  many  souls  be  yours  in  heaven  marked  with 

the  sign  "  Fidelity." 
Where  Love  the  greatest  power  on  earth  still  wields 

secure  his  wondrous  art, 
And  whispers  to  each  drooping  soul  his  magic  pass- 
word to  the  "heart." 
Sweet  Charity  now  takes  the  wand,  and  waves  it 

o'er  the  drunkard's  home  ; 
The  Good  Samaritan  of  earth,  she  whispers  to  the 

fallen  "  Come." 
She  spreads  her  robe  o'er  sin  and  shame,  hid  in  the 

wine-cup's  fearful  draught. 
To  wash  the  plague-spots  from  the  soul,  she  bids 

them  earth's  first  nectar  quaff. 
Hebe  poured   no  sweeter  for   the  Gods,  than   we 

may  find  in  silver  springs. 
Or  in  the  perfumed  mountain  streams,  o'er  which 

the  snow-white  lily  swings. 
'T  is  consecrated  since  the  time  that  Moses  led  the 

tribes  of  old 
Unto  Mount  Horeb's  holy  side,  and  smote  the  rock 

till  water  rolled 
Down  to  the  waiting  multitude,  saving  the  people 

that  he  led : 
And  so  should  we  like  him  of  old  raise  many  a 

weary,  drooping  head. 
Place  roses  on  the  fading  cheeks,  smooth  wrinkles 

from  the  pallid  brow ; 
Joy  and  Peace  shall  come  to  all  who  take  the  Tem- 
plar's solemn  vow. 
We  gather  here  to  guide  aright  the  interests  of  our 

noble  band,  ^    o\^^ - '"-      •         . . 

-r-        "'  Cf  THE  '  S 


TEMPERANCE   POEM, 


Then  let  us  now  with  will  and  might  stand  soul  to 

soul,  as  hand  to  hand, 
A  solid  phalanx ;  so  no  foe  shall  ever  break  the  living 

wall ; 
And  yet  each  watchman  in  our  ranks  shall  hear  the 

faintest,  lowest  call. 
Help  be  given   to  all  who   come,  fraternal  hands 

shall  hold  them  up. 
And    lift   to  nobler   paths  on  earth  the  one  who 

spurns  the  drunkard's  cup. 
The  Golden  Rule  should  mark  our  lives,  leaving  a 

record  most  sublime. 
Our  trophies  should  be  human  souls  saved  for  our 

monuments  of  time. 
And  greater  heroes  there  are  none  in  all  the  songs 

that  poets  sing. 
Than  he  who    firmly  turns  away  from  where  the 

tempters'  voices  ring ; 
And  Titan-like  raises  his  head  above  the  demon  at 

his  side, 
Although  the  syren  voices  call  to  Lethe's  dark  and 

noisome  tide ; 
That  false  nepenthe  of  the  soul  which  burns  out 

honor,  joy,  and  love ; 
And  leaves  a  thing  that's  sunk  so  low  even  the  an- 
gels up  above 
Must  shade  their  eyes  and  turn   away,  it  is  so  sad 

and  strange  a  thing. 
Lost !  lost  for  aye  !  the  echoes  roll  till  Temperance 

stops  the  saddened  ring. 
A  soul  is  saved,  and  shouts  of  joy  pass  through  the 

corridors  on  high. 


TEMPERANCE  POEM.  37 

Until  it  reaches  God's  white   throne,   where   the 

river  of  life  flows  by. 
Banner  Lodge  of  California,  brothers  and  sisters 

here  to-night. 
Let  us  with  loyal,  earnest  zeal  clasp  firmly  on  the 

shield  of  right. 
The  demons  of  despair  and  death  will  pass  their 

poisoned  cup  around, 
Then  be  it  ours  to  wage  the  war  for  Temperance's 

consecrated  ground ; 
Until  at  last  the  work  is  done,  and  we  from  our 

Grand  Worthy  Chief 
Receive  the  gift  he  offers  all  who  work  in  Jesus' 

pure  belief. 
Within  the  circle  of  His  love  where  the  river  of 

life  flows  at  our  feet, 
With  Heaven's  Regalia  for  our  prize  and  all  our 

loved  ones  there  to  meet ; 
Never  again  to  lose  them,  there,  but  safe  through 

all  eternity, 
We  hold  them  fast  in  the  circles  of  Love,  Faith, 

Hope,  and  Charity. 


38  OUR  NATIONAL  DAY. 


Oxii  ;^k,tioi)al  f)ay. 


FLING  out  your  proud  banner,  the  red,  white, 
and  blue, 
Shall  ever  float  over  the  bravest  and  true. 
From  the  sweet  sunny  South  to  the  far  Northern 

seas. 
May  our  national  banner  float  on  the  fresh  breeze ; 
Oh !  Americans  greet  it,  cast  hatred  away. 
Let  your  hearts  blend  in  peace  on  our  national  day. 

Where  the  orange  groves  wave  their  rich  fruitage 

of  gold. 
To  where  the  Sierras  stand  frowningly  bold. 
The  "  City  of  the  Plains,"  with  its  capital  grand, 
Unite  and  rejoice  all  o'er  our  glad  land. 
From  Florida's  coast  to  the  far  Northern  Maine, 
May  our  national  day  meet  its  welcome  again. 

Let  the  boom  of  the  cannon  sound  o'er  the  glad 

earth. 
O'er  a  century  hath  fled  since  our  nation  had  birth ; 
Bid  the  grim  tyrant  Time  bring  back  all  his  dead ; 
The  battle-fields,  too,  where  the  brave  soldiers  bled ; 
The  Father  of  our  country,  noble  Washington, 
We  will  never  forget  while  the  centuries  run. 


OUR  NATIONAL  DAY.  39 

The  patriots  who  stood  brave,  noble,  and  true, 
Beneath  the  first  folds  of  the  red,  white,  and  blue ; 
Oh !  Death,  with  thy  sickle,  so  bright  and  so  keen, 
See  they,  through  the  vail  of  life's  silvery  sheen, 
How  we  reverence  the  day  they  fought  for  and  died? 
May  it  ever  be  America's  pride. 

So  young  and  so  fair,  so  mammoth  and  strong; 
The  pride  of  the  earth,  the  avenger  of  wrong ; 
From  thirteen  tiny  States,  our  nation  hath  grown 
From  sea  unto  sea,  and  our  bright  flag  is  known 
All  over  the  earth,  where  in  ocean  or  bay 
The  zephyrs  and  waves  are  ever  at  play. 

Hearts  true  and  strong  fight  as  bravely  for  right, 
As  all  the  heroes  who  've  passed  from  our  sight ; 
When  at  Valley  Forge,  through  blood-trodden  snow ; 
Without  clothing  or  food,  and  hearts  full  of  woe, 
The  troops  and  their  leader  awaited  the  spring. 
To  fight  for  the  nation  where  freedom  should  cling. 

And  fair  Wyoming,  with  horrors  untold, 

Still  lives  through  time.     The  martyrs  so  bold, 

Who  gave  their  lives  for  Liberty's  cause, 

Refusing  the  weight  of  Saxon  laws, 

Fell  by  the  Delaware's  rippling  tide. 

And  from  the  "  Niagara,"  brave  Perry's  pride. 

When  the  "  Guerriere  "  met  the  "  Yankee  craft," 
How  the  tory  captain  proudly  laughed ; 
Ah !  he  little  thought  of  shot  and  shell. 
Which  could  prove  the  Yankee's  will  so  well ; 
Yet  the  ship  went  down  'neath  the  blue  wave — 
Left  Hull  the  victor,  staunch  and  brave. 


40  OUR  NATIONAL   DAY. 

How  oft  were  the  rivers  and  lakes  dyed  red ! 
How  oft  were  the  battle-fields  strewn  with  the  dead ! 
How  oft  was  the  tomahawk  buried  in  the  blood 
Of  women  and  children;  till  the  crimson-dyed  flood 
Swept  all  o'er  the  land  with  such  terrible  power, 
That  the  stoutest  hearts  quailed  in  that  dismal  hour ! 

Ah !  this  was  the  price  paid  for  Freedom's  sweet 

home ; 
May  she  furl  her  white  wings,  and  never  more  roam 
From  the  nation  that  loves  her,  but  ever  remain. 
Our  bright  flag  will  float  from  main  unto  main ; 
And  Americans  shall  rejoice  and  be  free 
Forever  in  the  land  of  Liberty. 


MAUD,  41 


^  k  u  d  . 


TWILIGHT  is  creeping, 
Bright  stars  are  peeping, 
Silent  watch  keeping 

Over  the  night ; 

Little  birds  sleeping, 

Bright  flowers  weeping. 

Zephyrs  are  sweeping 

Over  them  light. 

Yes,  haste  to  the  shore, 
And  dip  the  bright  oar, 
Nor  list  to  the  roar 

Of  the  rough  wave; 
Haste  to  the  meeting. 
Old  Time  is  fleeting, 
Angry  waves  beating 

Down  by  the  cave. 

Sweet  Maud  is  flying, 
Bright  stars  are  prying. 
Zephyrs  are  sighing. 

Why  will  you  go  ? 
Now  you  rush  headlong; 
If  you   should  live  long, 

3* 


42  MAUD. 


Don't  you  think  ere  long 
You  will  find  woe  ? 

Oh,  no !  no,  never. 
Though  we  live  ever, 
True  love  forever 

Will  bind  our  hearts ; 
We  will  go  trusting, 
Nor  with  heart  bursting. 
When  we  are  thirsting, 

Drink  of  his  arts. 

This  adage  keeping, 
Look  before  leaping, 
Better  than  weeping. 

Dear  little  Maud  ; 
Fie !   you  don't  hear  me, 
Though  you  are  near  me. 
For  you,  oh !    dear  me. 

Think  this  is  fraud. 

Now  you  care  for  naught, 
And  you  have  no  thought 
Save  those  with  love  fraught- 

Ah,  fie  !   Maud,  fie ! 
Close  you  must  cherish, 
Then  it  will  flourish. 
Slighted,  'twill  perish — 

Love  will  soon  die. 

Thus  whispered  the  flower, 
Did  all  in  its  power, 


MAUD.  43 


In  that  night's  hour 
To  stop  Maud's  feet ; 

Maud  would  not  listen, 

Bright  her  eyes  glisten. 

As  she  doth  hasten 
Some  one  to  meet. 

Fearing  no  slaughter, 
Maud,  only  daughter,' 
Over  the  water 

Is  watching  a  boat ; 
Light  it  skims  o'er. 
Touches  the  shore — 
"  Darling,  step  lower  " — 

Outward  they  float. 

Fair  Maud  is  flying, 
Bright  stars  are  prying. 
Zephyrs  are  sighing — 

Why  will  you  go  ? 
Left  father  and  mother. 
Sister  and  brother. 
All  for  this  other. 

When  Love  said  Go. 

What  will  they  think,  Maud, 
When  they  find  by  fraud. 
Some  lover  with  laud 

Has  stolen  their  bird  ? 
Maud,  are  you  not  wrong  ? 
No  more  the  gay  song. 
Long,  shall  they  wait  long. 

Ere  it  is  heard. 


U  MAUD. 


O'er  the  waves  darting, 
Some  one's  heart  is  smarting 
For  the  words  of  parting 

That  will  never  come. 
Stop  the  dull  heart  aching, 
And  the  low  sobs  breaking, 
Like  a  child  awaking 

Far  away  from  home. 

For  me  you  left  all. 
Even  your  father's  hall, 
Maud,  would  you  recall 

All  that  is  past  ? 
Some  one  is  kissing  her, 
Some  one  is  blessing  her, 
Are  any  missing  her 

Whom  he  holds  fast  ? 


THE  SEA.  45 


^  or  THE  '^ 

[itniversitt] 


't\^  ^ek 


"I  should  like  to  sail  on,  and  forever,  and  never  touch 
the  shore  again." — Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

AWAY  o'er  the  great  blue  ocean, 
Far  out  on  the  shoreless  sea ; 
Away  from  the  world's  commotion, 

I  long  forever  to  be ; 
Where  the  throbs  and  the  pulsation 

Of  the  great  heart  of  the  world 
Through  the  arteries  of  the  nations 
Are  never  madly  hurled. 

Where  none  of  Earth's  grief  and  sorrow, 

Can  come  with  its  weary  blight ; 
But  where  on  each  glad  to-morrow, 

We  watch  the  billows  of  white, 
Which  the  ship,  like  a  bird  of  the  ocean, 

Flings  back  from  her  shining  prow ; 
Like  a  stately  bird  in  her  motion. 

Skimming  o'er  the  waters  now. 

With  the  sea-birds  sailing  around  us. 

The  porpoise  leaping  below ; 
The  trackless  waters  surround  us 

With  their  never-ending  flow ; 


46  THE  SEA, 


Where  the  monsters  of  the  ocean, 

Tossed  up  the  snowy  spray, 
And  the  sweet  south  wind's  devotion, 

Chideth  the  tropic  day. 

Where  the  Storm  King  in  his  fury, 

Rides  the  tempest  nobly  grand ; 
The  thunder  is  his  augury. 

And  the  lightning  from  his  hand 
Flashes  on  the  angry  ocean. 

Till  the  waves  roll  mountains  high ; 
As  the  wild  winds  shriek  with  passion. 

Moaning  upward  to  the  sky. 

Oh,  Neptune,  God  of  the  Ocean, 

While  wooing  the  mermaid  fair. 
You've  won,  with  a  wild  emotion, 

The  children  of  earth  and  air ; 
Far  down  in  your  coral  cavern 

Now  sitting  in  regal  state ; 
Make  you  your  laws  as  you  govern 

To  blend  with  the  Goddess  Fate. 

You  've  hidden  earth's  fairest  treasures 

Down  in  your  coral  caves ; 
For  love,  life,  beauty,  and  pleasure 

Have  sunk  'neath  the  seething  waves ; 
You  've  stolen  the  wealth  of  nations, 

And  drawn  the  good  ship  down, 
For  you,  heed  neither  wealth  or  station. 

When  obeying  the  Storm  King's  frown. 


THE  SEA.  47 


It 's  in  vain  men  seek  thy  wonders, 

Beneath  the  mighty  deep ; 
Afar  the  green  waves  under 

Thy  fairest  gems  still  sleep. 
No  magic  wand  can  ever 

Bid  the  great  waves  depart ; 
Nor  find  the  unknown  rivers 

That  wander  through  thy  heart. 

For  men  cannot  roam,  mermaiden, 

'Neath  the  sea's  restless  flow ; 
Where,  in  your  green-wreathed  aiden. 

The  pearls  and  amber  grow. 
The  wonders  earth  hath  never  claimed, 

Jewels  no  crown  may  wear. 
Myriads  of  creatures  there  unnamed, 

You  hold  those  secrets  rare. 

Ah !  the  strange  infatuation, 

Ever  calling  from  the  sea ; 
With  its  mystic  estuation. 

And  its  unsung  poesy. 
We  are  sailing,  sailing  ever. 

To  that  great  and  mystic  sea, 
On  Time's  swiftly  flowing  river. 

To  the  Ocean  —  Eternity. 


48  THE  BROKEN  RING. 


¥l\e    ©i^oker\    %x\i. 


"  With  this  ring  do  I  wed  thee,"  he  placed  on  her 

hand 
The  daintiest,  brightest,  wee  plain  golden  band. 

"  'T  is  for  better,  or  worse,  in  life,  until  death, 
I  will  love  thee,  my  wife,  as  long  as  I  've  breath." 

The  wedding  was  o'er,  yet  the  heart  of  the  bride 
Gave  back  no  response  to  the  one  by  her  side. 

He  had  sought  the  fair  hand,  nor  thought  of  the  love 
That's  more  to  a  woman  than  worlds  up  above. 

Years  passed,  and  the  jewel  its  luster  had  lost. 
He  had  tarnished  the  gem,  and  forgotten  its  cost. 

But  the  woman's  fair  face,  in  beauty  and  pride. 
Covered  over  with  roses  the  wound  she  would  hide. 

The  mark  is  a  part  of  the  cross  taken  up ; 
She  '11  drink  life's  bitter  draught  as  she  would  joy's 
cup. 

The  longing  for  love  that  will  enter  her  heart 
Will  steal  through  each  fiber  and  crush  every  part. 


THE  BROKEN  RING.  49 

Until,  worn  and  \j^eary,  the  cross  is  laid  down, 
Then  Love,  the  Eternal,  will  give  her  the  crown. 

Blind  world,  call  her  happy,  think  she  was,  and  is 

how. 
Ah !  the  ring  has  been  broken,  and  so  has  the  vow. 


50  ECHOES. 


5<dl\oe^. 


T  SIT  in  the  gathering  twilight, 
^         While  the  silent  shadows  of  gray- 
Steal  up  like  the  shades  of  Chaos 

Ere  the  darkness  was  rolled  away ; 
And  a  spell  of  the  night  came  o'er  me, 

When  1  saw — or  seemed  to  see  — 
Coming  up  from  the  past  to  the  present. 
Things  that  are  or  were  to  be. 

Ah !  many  a  hope  is  buried. 

And  many  a  funeral  knell 
Will  send  through  our  souls  its  echo 

From  Memory's  deep-toned  bell. 
We  may  list  to  the  world's  gay  music, 

And  dwell  in  her  brilliant  bowers. 
Yet  there  '11  come  up  through  the  splendor 

That  knell  for  the  lost  of  ours. 

We  may  laugh  at  life  and  its  passions. 
And  sneer  at  the  blood  and  tears. 

As  if  no  heart-graves  we  were  hiding, 
Deep  buried  for  years  and  years. 

We  may  smile  at  another's  sorrow. 
And  talk  of  the  foolish  things  ; 


ECHOES,  51 


Yet  each  of  us  hears  in  the  twilight 
A  knell  which  Memory  rings. 

Ah !  we  turn  with  a  spirit  vision 

Down  the  still  aisles  of  the  past, 
And  we  see  but  a  fading  shadow 

Of  the  things  too  bright  to  last ; 
Of  the  dreams  we  pictured  in  beauty ; 

Of  the  castles  we  built  in  air ; 
Of  a  future  life  all  perfect — 

Love  and  peace  sat  enthroned  there. 

But  the  dreams  have  faded  to  nothing; 

The  castles  have  crumbled  to  dust ; 
And  the  fair,  sweet  life,  born  in  Fancy, 

Hope  never  shall  hold  in  trust ; 
And  we  turn  away,  for  the  pictures 

Are  draped  with  the  crape  of  despair, 
And  we  hear  forever  an  echo 

Of  a  death-knell  through  the  air. 


52  TO  A   PICTURE. 


¥o  a  f^ictui'e. 


^  I  ^HY  face  brings  a  memory  to-day 
^  Of  a  pleasant  week  spent  in  thy  home, 

Where  the  burdens  of  life  for  a  time  cast  away, 
The  shadows  of  care  which  in  and  out  stray 
O'er  our  pathway  wherever  we  roam. 

I  have  wished  with  the  Poet  of  old 

That  the  land-breeze  of  earth  may  be  light ; 
That  the  storm- winds  of  sorrow  may  never  unfold 
Their  pinions,  and  shadow  thee  darkly  and  cold. 
Or  e'en  touch  thy  young  heart  in  its  blight ; 

That  the  stars  up  above  may  look  down, 
And  watch  thee  where'er  thou  may'st  roam ; 

And    may  shield   thee   forever   from  Error's  dark 
frown ; 

May  cast  o'er  thy  brow  ^Love's  radiant  crown 
With  a  halo  'round  thy  happy  home. 

I  have  thought  of  thee  oft,  and  to-night. 
As  the  Angel  of  Peace  draweth  nigh, 

And  the  Day  King  hath  passed  with  his  legion  of 
light 

Down  into  the  west,  and  out  of  our  sight. 
And  Night's  sentinels  gem  the  blue  sky — 


TO   A   PICTURE,  53 


I  see  thee  again  'mid  the  flowers 

Of  thy  home  in  our  bright,  sunny  land, 
A  rival  to  Flora  as  queen  of  the  bowers. 
Thy  bright  ways  beguiling  the  flight  of  the  hours. 
While  I  then  joined  as  one  in  your  band. 

All  the  pictures  which  light  up  life's  way. 
Memory  hangs  in  her  close-curtained  hall ; 

No  rude  stranger  fingers  lift  the  curtain  away ; 

Thought  and    bright  fancy  through  the   corridors 
stray, 
And  one  will  ever  answer  your  call. 

May  the  banners  of  crimson  and  gold, 

Which  the  King  of  the  Day  flingeth  back, 
Reflecting  his  splendor  o'er  woodland  and  wold. 
Be  a  type  of  the  future  your  eyes  may  behold 
As  you  journey  on  life's  unseen  track. 

Dark  eyes  with  the  shadow  of  dreams 

Oft  reflecting  thy  far-away  light ; 
You  see  but  the  future,  where  Hope's  promise  gleams 
'  Neath  Love's  royal  beauty,  close  .by  moonlit  streams, 

Where  he  whispers  his  promises  bright. 

I  think  there  are  some  in  this  life 

Blest  with  all  that  is  fair,  good,  and  true ; 

God  keeps  from  their  pathway  all  care,  sin  and  strife ; 

Makes  them  blest  as  daughter,  friend,  sister  and  wife ; 
May  the  light  of  His  love  fall  on  you. 


54  THE   OLD  LOG   CHURCH. 


^\\^  Old  I<o^   ^\m't\ 


T  N  the  primitive  days  that  have  long  past  away, 
^  When  the  sun  shone  as  brightly  as  sun  shines 

to-day, 
Here  the  old  church  was  built,  and  the  settlement 

small 
Held  the  stanch  frontier  heart,  that  would  answer 

the  call 
To  the  volunteer  ranks,  when  the  foeman  was  near. 
Leaping  into  their  saddles  as  swift  as  the  deer. 
Pursuing  the  red  warrior  o'er  plateau  and  dale, 
Until   night    threw   around    them   her   dark   star- 
gemmed  vail. 
Like  a  benison  of  peace  bringing  rest  everywhere. 
While  the  worshippers  knelt  in  their  quaint  church 
of  prayer. 

Old  Time  holds  his  scepter,  and  beneath  his  stern 

sway 
A  city  looms  up  in  her  stately  array ; 
New  churches  have  taken  the  place  of  the  old, 
New  worshipers  worship  within  the  new  fold, 
Whose  spires  point  to  heaven  ;  here  the  rich  and  the 

gay 


THE  OLD  LOG  CHURCH.  55 

Kneel  low  at  their  altars  :  do  they  all  kneel  to  pray 
With  the  reverence  for  God  marking  all  of  their 

moods, 
As  when  the  old  church  stood  mid  nature's  solitudes; 
When  the  faith  of  the  people  had  hallowed  the  sod, 
And  they  raised  this  rude  temple  to  worship  their 

God? 

No  fine  garb  of  fashion,  no  carpeted  aisles ; 
No  cloak  of  vast  riches,  from  which  guilt  oft  smiles ; 
No  soft  cushioned  pews  in  which  sinners  may  rest, 
Unheeding  the  future  in  the  present's  bequest ; 
No  grand  organ  music,  no  fashionable  choir. 
But  they  sang  the  old  tunes  with  a  heartfelt  desire. 
The  swift  flowing  river  rolling  down  to  the  sea 
Oft  caught  up  the  refrain  in  her  wild  minstrelsy ; 
And  the  wide  answering  paean  went  up  on  high. 
Till  the  echo  hath  flown  like  birds  to  the  sky. 
The  church  is  still  there  and  the  river  flows  on. 
But  the  people  who  built  it.  Oh!  where  have  they 
gone? 

Many  bridges  hang  over  the  river's  dark  wave. 
Progress  laughs  at  the   failures  she   hides  in  the 

grave ; 
Her  bidding  the  iron  horse  obeys  with  a  bound. 
His  track  like  a  girdle  spans  the  continent  round ; 
The  lightning  of  heaven  flashing  o'er  the  wire. 
Brings  the  news  of  a  people  as  a  single  desire. 
And  here  Commerce,  twin  sister,  asserts  her  bold 

sway. 
While  success  crowns  her  efforts  with  laurels  each 

day, 


56  THE   OLD  LOG   CHURCH. 

But  the  little  log  church  stands  deserted,  alone, 
Like  some  ancient  relic  whose  daytime  hath  flown. 

Oh !  church  as  you  stand  in  your  loneliness  now. 
Hath  the  dark  hand  of  death  pressed  each  worship- 
er's brow  ? 
Did  the  sunlight  of  peace  shine  with  joy  on  each 

face. 
As  they  knelt  round  thy  altar  to  ask  for  His  grace  ? 
Our  God  sends  his  blessing  in  hamlet  and  hall, 
He  sees  not  their  riches,  but  heeds  each  low  call ; 
The  church  may  be  humble,  or  stately  and  grand. 
The  last  to  be  built,  or  the  first  in  the  land. 
The  old  log  church  may  crumble  to  dust  bye-and-bye, 
But  God  keeps  the  record  of  each  up  on  high 


LULU,  57 


I<ulu. 


T    ULU,  while  the  sweet  bells  of  youth  are  chira- 
J— '  ing, 

Luring  thee  ever  up  life's  sunny  slopes, 
I  pray  no  sorrow  ever  check  thy  climbing, 

No  specter  hang  its  shadow  o'er  thy  hopes. 

And  yet,  dear  Lulu,  though  I  wish  no  sorrow 
May  find  its  home  within  thy  girlish  heart. 

We  know  not  what  the  distant  far  to-morrow 
May  bring,  or  what  sad  gift  it  may  impart. 

Remember  then,  as  up  you  climb  life's  mountain. 
Its  rugged  slopes  are  sometimes  in  the  shade, 

Should  your  feet  tarry  at  Marah's  bitter  fountain, 
Say  to  thy  sinking  heart,  "  Be  not  afraid." 

Forget  not  when  the  angel  touched  the  water, 
Obeying  God,  the  power  of  healing  came ; 

And  He  who  raised  the  Jewish  ruler's  daughter. 
Bids  thy  young  heart  cherish  His  holy  name. 

Ah !  Lulu,  earth  hath  nothing  worth  the  living, 
To  pay  us  for  its  sorrow  and  its  strife, 

4 


58  LULU, 

And   human   hearts   have  not  one  thought  worth 
-  giving, 
If  the  soul  cannot  claim  eternal  life. 

I  know  too  oft  that  when  youth  is  surrounded 
By  loving  friends,  and  all  the  heart  holds  dear, 

We  feel  as  though  our  little  world  was  bounded 
By  love,  and  hope,  then  the  soul  knows  no  fear. 

Yet  grief  and  pain  ere  long  will  leave  their  traces. 
And  life's  bright  gold  be  changed  to  useless  dross, 

Then  heavenward  we  must  turn  our  tear-stained 
faces. 
To  be  lifted  nearer  Jesus  by  a  cross. 

1  would  not  cast  one  shade  of  sadness  o'er  thee ; 

I  would  not  for  the  world  blight  thy  fresh  youth  ; 
I  only  wish,  when  looking  far  before  thee. 

Thy  heart  be  filled  with  God's  eternal  truth. 


ULTINAMENTO.  Wd 


lIltiqciinet)to. 


A  PALLID  face,  two  white  hands  crossed 
So  calmly  in  death's  sleep ; 
The  life  is  done,  through  trouble  tossed, 

No  mourners  here  to  weep. 
Oh  !  Time,  roll  back  the  curtained  past ; 
Then  we  shall  know  the  truth  at  last. 

Nay,  shrink  not  from  the  erring  dead, 

Though  sin  be  at  her  feet ; 
Perchance  upon  that  golden  head 

A  mother's  love  as  sweet 
As  your's ;  you  kiss  your  baby  fair. 
And  twine  its  curls  of  golden  hair. 

Oh !  Time,  roll  back  thy  curtain  now, 

And  in  the  distant  past, 
Ere  sin  had  stained  that  snowy  brow 

With  its  nefarious  blast, 
Adown  the  far  dim  aisles  we  see 
A  happy  home  of  purity. 

And  she  who  sleeps  the  dreamless  sleep. 

Was  queen  here  over  all. 
Until  the  angels  bent  to  weep. 


60  ULTINAMENTO. 


That  love  should  cause  her  fall :  • 

For  she  believed,  as  woman  will, 
And  listened  to  the  tempter  still. 

Ah,  poor  tired  sleeper,  who  can  tell. 

Save  He  who  knoweth  all. 
Ere  love  had  wrought  the  fatal  sj^ell ; 

And  even  'neath  his  fall. 
The  agony  thou  must  have  known. 
On  the  wild  waves  of  passion  thrown. 

Condemned  and  spurned,  no  loving  hand 

To  lead  thee  back  to  righi ; 
A  thousand  Christians  in  the  land, 

And  yet  no  hope  in  sight; 
But  how  who  knows,  on  that  other  shore 
You  may  hear  His  voice,  "  Go,  sin  no  more." 

Ah  !  Christian  women  !  as  you  spurn 

The  sinful,  erring  one, 
Was  it  your  Christ  who  bade  you  turn — 

While  his  great  works  undone — 
From  sisters  of  your  name  and  race. 
Although  they  here  the  stain  disgrace? 

You  strive  to  teach  the  heathen  God, 

Here  and  in  lands  afar ; 
You  bow  beneath  His  chastening  rod 

When  darkest  troubles  are ; 
But  do  you  pray  for  those  at  home. 
Who  from  the  paths  of  virtue  roam  ? 

'T  w^as  Christ,  the  well-beloved  Son, 
Who  spoke  those  words  of  peace 


ULTINAMENTO.  61 


Unto  the  trembling,  sinful  one, 
And  bade  her  sorrows  cease ; 
Then  have  ye  not  the  charity 
Of  Christ,  who  died  for  her  and  thee  ? 


62  TWO    VOICES. 


¥wo  Voided. 


First  Voice. 

TT  EART-WORN  and  weary,  turning  to-day 
-*■  ^      From  all  the  bustle  in  life's  busy  fray  ; 
Longing  for  rest  that  never  will  come 
Until  the  messenger  calls  us  home ; 
Longing  for  words  of  affection  and  peace ; 
Waiting  for  trial  and  discord  to  cease ; 
Oh  !  will  this  longing  never  be  o'er 
Till  our  boat  reaches  eternity's  shore  ? 

Second  Voice. 

How  many  life-boats  are  out  on  the  stresCm, 
Finding  the  joy-ports  are  naught  but  a  dream? 
How  many  lives  are  as  bitter  as  yours, 
Led  by  the  demon  which  ever  allures  ? 
How  many  building  their  castles  in  air 
Dream  o'er  the  structure,  stately  and  fair. 
Only  to  see  it  crushed  in  a  day. 
As  the  hopes  of  a  life-time  vanish  away  ? 

First  Voice. 

Ah  !  but  they  never  can  feel  as  I  feel, 

When  the  bleak  winds  of  sorrow  o'er  me  steal; 


.TIVO    VOICES.  ()3 


Never  was  castle  so  stately  and  fair, 
Real  in  my  fancy,  though  built  in  the  air  ; 
I  had  planned  wonderful  things  to  be  done — 
Bright  was  ray  future,  as  bright  as  the  sun — 
'  Until  adversity  came  like  a  cloud. 
Wrapping  the  wreck  of  my  life  in  its  shroud. 

Second  Voice. 

So  we  all  think,  in  our  weak,  selfish  way. 
Each  life  is  the  saddest  earth  holds  to-day ; 
Still  pining  for  every  treasure  we've  lost, 
Holding  it  dearer  than  ever  it  cost ; 
Clinging  to  idols  that  crumble  to  dust. 
Leaving  our  hearts  there  to  wither  and  rust 
Forgetful  that  Sorrow  all  over  our  land 
Bestoweth  her  gifts  with  a  liberal  hand. 

First  Voice. 

Ah!  but  your  sorrow  is  not  very  deep, 
If  you  can  lull  it  so  gently  to  sleep ; 
How  many  there  are,  no  better  than  we. 
From  whom  all  sorrow  seemeth  to  flee ; 
Why  should  our  burden  be  so  very  great. 
Leaving  to  others  a  happier  fate  ? 
Think  you  it  is  right  that  a/ew?  should  bear 
The  burdens  of  sorrow,  trouble  and  care? 

Second  Voice. 

Can  you  look  deep  into  every  heart. 
Lifting  each  mask  that  is  hiding  a  part  ? 
Can  you  roam  free  through  every  cell, 
Bidding  Memory  loose  her  spell  ? 


64  TIVO^  VOICES. 


Can  you  tell  when  the  sweet,  merry  laugh 
Hath  not  been  wrung  from  a  poisoned  draught  ? 
Can  you  always  see  by  the  smile's  bright  glow 
What  a  world  of  sadness  may  lurk  below? 

This  world  has  plenty  for  us  to  do  ; 

The  vineyard  is  large,  but  the  workers  are  few. 

Then  up  and  be  doing,  and  dream  no  more — 

The  dreamer's  future  hath  nothing  in  store, 

And  life  will  prove  but  a  dreary  part 

If  we  sink  down  'neath  each  burning  smart ; 

For  braver  and  truer  are  they  who  hide 

Their  troubles  deep  with  a  smiling  pride. 


CLARA.  65 


I 


Cliii'k. 


SEE  thee  in  thy  home  to-night, 

Circled  by  love  and  loving  friends ; 
Thy  dark  eyes  flashing  glad  and  bright, 

Send  back  the  glances  time  intends 
Should  come  to  those  of  early  years. 
Ere  they  have  known  the  weight  of  tears. 

Ah !  Clara,  do  you  ever  dream 
Of  all  the  blessings  that  are  thine  ? 

Thy  parents'  love,  a  steady  gleam 
Of  God's  own  sunshine  most  divine. 

Indeed,  I  would  not  wish  thee  less 

Of  life's  delicious  tenderness. 

And  yet  into  my  heart  at  times, 

There  comes  a  longing  o'er  my  soul, 

That  I  might  hear  the  household  chimes, 
To  make  life's  broken  circle  whole. 

Alas !  the  wish  is  vain,  so  vain — 

I  see  their  graves  through  mists  of  rain. 

I  had  no  happy  childhood  hours, 

I  hold  no  girlhood  free  from  care ; 
You  in  Love's  consecrated  bowers, 
4* 


6G  CLARA. 

Where  all  is  bright,  and  sweet,  and  fair. 
Can  never  dream  how  dark  the  shade 
Death's  chilly  hands  o'er  some  hath  laid. 

I  would  we  had  some  mystic  power, 
To  keep  all  shadows  from  the  brow 

Of  those  we  love  in  life's  bright  bower. 
And  every  household  then  and  now. 

Should  feel  the  touch  of  magic  wand. 

Wielded  thoughout  our  golden  land. 

I  know  how  oft  the  heart  may  yearn 
Forever  for  its  unfound  rest, 

And  like  a  wear}^  bird  return, 

When  fate  withholds  the  last  bequest ; 

To  list  for  loving  words  again. 

And  catch  the  echo's  sweet  refrain. 

If  wishes,  dear,  that  come  from  me. 

Could  chase  the  shadows  from  thy  path, 

I  know  thy  future  would  be  free. 
From  real  goblin,  ghost,  or  wraith. 

Yet  as  some  shadows  come  to  all, 

I  pray  thy  number  may  be  small. 

And  as  the  future  years  shall  roll. 
And  you  still  tread  the  upward  way, 

I  hope  life's  circle  may  be  whole, 
And  you  not  find  a  cloudy  day  ; 

That  God  may  watch  with  loving  care. 

Over  your  pathway  everywhere. 


IMPROMPTU.  67 


IiUpi^oiiiptti. 


OUT  on  the  front  steps  sitting, 
In  the  first  dim  twilight ; 
Only  the  night  birds  flitting, 

The  stars  look  coldly  bright, 
Thinking,  talking,  and  dreaming, 

Addie,  Mollie,  and  I, 
Of  some  things  real  and  seeming, 
The  far-off  and  the  nigh. 

What  will  the  futm-e  bring  us 

More  than  the  present  holds  ? 
What  will  earth's  voices  sing  us  ? 

What  are  life's  mystic  folds  ? 
When  we  shall  greet  the  morrow 

Clad  in  her  silent  dress. 
Will  she  bring  to  us  sorrow  ? 

Or  love's  dear,  sweet  caress  ? 

What  are  the  night  birds  saying 

As  they  flit  to  and  fro  ? 
Where  are  the  fire-flies  straying  ? 

Where  do  the  zephyrs  go  ? 
Whence  come  the  thoughts  that  sway  us  ? 

Whence  go  the  words  we  speak  ? 


68  IMPROMPTU. 


Why  will  our  hearts  betray  us 
When  we  miss  what  we  seek  ? 

What  are  the  angels  doing  ? 

Far  in  their  happy  home 
They  watch  us,  earthward  viewing 

The  kindred  hearts  that  roam ; 
And  in  the  hush  of  evening, 

When  souls  are  lonely  here. 
We  almost  see  them  leaving 

Their  homes  to  bring  us  cheer. 

Under  the  drooping  curtain 

Futurity  hides  away 
Our  lives ;  she's  only  certain 

Where  our  feet  will  ever  stray. 
Sometimes  we  wish  to  lift  it. 

Sometimes  we  would  look  afar. 
If  our  restless  hands  could  shift  it. 

And  our  souls  her  door  unbar. 

But  would  we  be  any  better, 

Or  happier,  think  you,  dear, 
For  reading  the  hidden  letter 

Were  its  mysteries  made  clear  ? 
Perhaps  we  would  see  such  trouble 

In  the  years  that  are  to  come, 
Our  sorrows  would  be  double. 

And  joy  would  forget  our  home. 

Then  leave  the  future,  darling. 
The  shades  are  falling  fast ; 


IMPROMPTU. 


Near  yonder  little  starling, 
A  meteor 's  flying  past. 

Come  in,  the  dew  is  falling. 
The  night  air  growing  cold, 

And  Willie's  voice  is  calling ; 
Come  into  home's  sweet  fold. 


70  LOVE. 


I<ove. 


L 


OVE,  sweetest  thought  that  ever  came 

To  stir  the  human  soul ; 
And  love,  the  saddest,  if  thy  fame 

Blend  not  with  God's  control. 
Far  backward  through  the  vale  of  years 

We  see  a  mother's  lovc3 ; 
While  looking  through  the  mist  of  tears 

An  angel  smiles  above. 

Oh !  mother,  with  thy  mighty  love, 

So  tender,  true,  and  strong.; 
From  thy  sweet  thoughts  we  never  rove. 

You  ever  pray  no  wrong 
May  compass  round  our  wayward  feet 

Wherever  we  may  stray ; 
Yet  you  have  joined  the  heavenly  fleet 

Far  up  God's  holy  way. 

Oh  !  love,  how  sweet  thy  echoes  are. 
When  infant  tongues  are  thine ; 

We  bring  our  treasures  from  afar 
To  cast  them  at  his  shrine ; 

For  baby's  king,  and  who  shall  dare 
Invade  this  monarch's  realm  ; 


LOVE.  71 

He  guides  us  with  his  fingers  fair, 
Our  hearts  are  but  the  helm. 

Yet  there  are  other  loves  than  these, 

Though  not  so  pure  and  sweet ; 
We  brought  them  down  life's  rugged  ways 

Until  our  bleeding  feet 
Refused  to  hear  the  breaking  heart 

Bowed  beneath  sorrow's  cross ; 
And  oh!  how  sad,  when  love  departs, 

We  find  our  gold  is  dross. 

Perhaps,  our  Father,  looking  through 

The  changing  scene  of  years. 
That  come  to  us  in  life.  He  knew 

That  in  this  vale  of  tears 
If  he  had  given  to  our  hearts 

The  human  love  we  crave. 
We  ne  'er  had  sought  the  higher  arts 

That  live  beyond  the  grave. 

Oh !  Father,  Saviour,  God  in  one. 

Thy  love  is  with  us  all ; 
And  while  this  earthly  race  we  run. 

It  watcheth,  lest  we  f^ll. 
Oh !  love  so  great  that  human  ken 

Can  never  fathom  half ; 
It  caused  a  God  to  die  for  men. 

And  sorrow's  cup  to  quaff. 

Then  if  the  cross  he  bids  us  bear 

Seems  greater  than  our  strength. 
We  know  a  crown  is  waiting  there, 


72  LOVE. 

And  robe,  whose  snowy  length 
Hath  never  known  the  dust  of  earth ; 

Where,  in  those  streets  of  gold, 
We'll  wander,  with  the  loved  of  earth, 

And  with  the  friends  of  old. 


Ji/ARV,  73 


jAkij. 


B 


RIGHT  and  fair  thy  natal  morning, 

Eleven  years  ago  to-day, 
Came  a  baby,  in  life's  dawning. 

Through  earth's  labyrinth  to  stray. 
All  the  grand  and  noble  dreaming 

Centered  round  thee,  little  one. 
The  ideal  sweetly  seeming 

In  thy  future  early  won. 

With  thy  blue  eyes'  dreamy  wonder 

And  thy  wavy  locks  of  gold, 
Looking  ever  over  yonder 

Where  the  pearly  gates  unfold  ;  ^ 

With  thy  face  of  baby  sw^eetness. 

Baby  accents  most  divine — 
Years  have  stolen  them,  in  their  fleetness, 

Yet  the  little  girl  is  mine. 

I  have  watched  the  bud  unfolding  — 
Read  each  promise  written  there ; 

Magic  gifts  for  years  are  holding. 
You  '11  fulfill  each  promise  rare ; 

Never  shall  a  doubt  come  stealing 
Through  the  night  or  in  the  day ; 


74  MARY. 

No  death-knell  must  e  'er  come  pealing 
Where  my  cherished  hopes  may  stray. 

I  have  urged  thee,  ever  leading 

Up  the  path  where  Knowledge  trod ; 
Listen  to  her  winsome  pleading, 

It  will  lift  thee  nearer  God. 
Up,  beyond  the  worlds  of  splendor, 

Leaving  earthly  things  afar, 
Though  the  cord  that  leads  is  slender. 

It  will  reach  beyond  the  star. 

Little  daughter,  may  no  sorrow 

Cast  its  shadow  o  'er  thy  track ; 
Would  that  in  the  great  to-morrow 

I  could  hold  all  trouble  back. 
Would  that  I  could  bear  the  burden, 

Take  the  pain  and  meet  the  strife ; 
All  thy  future  should  be  Eden  — 

And  Jl^oy's  wand  should  rule  thy  life. 

Yet,  howe  'er  we  love  our  treasures, 

God  hath  willed,  and  it  is  so. 
Each  must  bear  his  pain  and  pleasure  — 

Weak  or  strongly  meet  his  woe. 
We  can  never  lift  the  curtain 

That  divides  the  Now  and  Then ; 
Never  can  be  truly  certain 

Of  the  destinies  of  men. 

Yet,  my  darling  blue-eyed  daughter. 
If  thy  mother's  hand  could  mould. 
It  would  never  tire  or' falter 


MARY,  75 


Until  death  had  froze  it  cold. 
It  would  reach  beyond  the  portal 

Into  all  the  great  and  good, 
Until  earth  should  hold  immortal 

Mary's  perfect  womanhood. 

I  will  wish  for  thee  all  blessings 

In  the  future's  joy  and  strife ; 
Should  you  meet  the  world's  caressing, 

Purity  must  guide  thy  life. 
Queridita  —  we  all  cherish 

Hopes  that  rise  above  the  clod ; 
May  thy  child-faith  never  perish, 

But  be  anchored  nearer  God. 


76  LETHE. 


L(etl:\e 


OH,  the  river !  oh,  river  of  Lethe ! 
Do  you  know  where  its  dark  waters  flow? 
Oh,  would  they  were  turned  through  this  realm  of 
tears. 
To  drown  all  of  its  sin  and  its  woe. 
To  drown  all  the  wretchedness,  misery,  and  strife, 
And  leave  all  that's  pure  and  beautiful  in  life ! 

Oh,  would  it  might  join  with  the  river  of  time. 

As  it  flows  to  the  ocean  of  years. 
And  wash  out  all  sorrow  and  anguish  and  pain 

That  dwell  in  this  dark  vale  of  tears ! 
Oh,  just  for  one  draught  from  the  river  of  Lethe, 
That  we  might  henceforth  from  all  sin  be  free — 

•That  we  might  once  more  be  free  from  all  sorrow, 

Be  free  from  this  heart-weary  pain ! 
It  comes  like  a  blight  upon  all  our  joys. 

Oh,  would  it  eould  ne'er  come  again ! 
Ah,  could  we  but  drink  from  this  river  to-day. 
And  wash  all  this  weary  heart-pain  away ! 

Oh,  river  of  Lethe :  oh,  river  of  Lethe  ! 
What  magic  must  dwell  in  thy  waves! 


LETHE.  11 


And  shall  we  ne'er  quaff  one  draught  as  we  walk 
Through  the  valley  which  leads  to  the  grave  ? 
Oh,  why  live  you  only  in  old  heathen  story, 
When  poets  have  oft  sung  long  of  your  glory? 


78  ''THE   RIVER   OF  LETHE r 


''^\^  f{ivet'  of  r<e%." 


"in  hie  nihil  sum  desiduum  dignus." 

UNKNOWN  F ,  1  hardly  dare 
To  verge  upon  your  territory, 
Lest,  in  some  moment  unaware, 

I  sing  the  mystic  river's  glory. 
Or  something  else,  it  matters  not. 

That  will  not  please  your  poet  fancy. 
Where  technicalities  forgot 

Will  add  the  more  to  your  piquancy. 

Since  'neath  the  river  of  Lethe 

You  will  not  bury  sin  and  sorrow. 
The  holy  well  of  Loch  Maree 

May  hold  the  draught  that  you  would  borrow ; 
Here  the  nepenthe  of  the  soul 

Flows  strong  beneath  the  silver  water, 
As  when  the  nectar  from  the  bowl 

Was  poured  by  Hebe,  the  gods'  fair  daughter. 

The  fire  and  frenzy  of  the  soul. 

The  something  that  we  long  for  ever. 

The  life  beyond  human  control. 

The  hopes  which  discord  only  sever. 


"  THE  RIVER   OF  LETHE r  79 

The  thirst  and  hunger  of  the  heart, 
That  longs  for  the  life  food  immortal, 

Will  turn  to  superstition's  art, 
And  pass  through  old  tradition's  portal. 

Then,  if  a  panacea  there 

Be  found  for  the  poor  heart  unstable, 
To  charm  away  its  every  care 

With  beautiful,  mysterious  fable. 
That  leads  us,  with  its  mystic  hand, 

Far  through  the  land  of  the  ideal. 
Where  fancy  guides  the  passing  hour. 

And  mystery  seems  a  thing  that's  real. 

There,  hand  in  hand,  we  walk  with  gods. 

And  watch  the  fabled  nymphs,  who  wander 
With  fawns  and  sylphs  through  streams  and  woods 

In  all  their  rich  primeval  splendor  ; 
As  in  some  gray  old  convent  cell. 

Where  wrote  by  monk  or  abbess  dreaming. 
The  strange,  mysterious  tales  they  tell, 

To  them  so  real,  to  us  but  seeming. 

And  since  you  seem  to  doubt  my  rhyme. 

Claiming  the  river's  potent  power, 
Turn  back  your  memory  to  the  time 

When  Orpheus  in  that  dark  hour, 
Within  the  kingdom  of  the  shades, 

Drank  deeply  of  the  fabled  river ; 
Then  Grief  and  Sorrow  quickly  fled, 

But  Joy  and  Love  remained  forever, 

Then  if  through  all,  by  Fancy  led. 
We  see  the  truth  of  God's  revealing, 


80  '*  THE   RIVER    OF  LETHE r 

And  find  the  road  where  angel's  tread, 

When  Death's  cold  shadows  o'er  us  stealing ; 

The  pearly  gates  will  shut  us  in 

That  home  where  there  is  no  to-morrow, 

And  Jesus  wash  away  all  sin, 

And  prove  a  Lethe  for  all  sorrow. 


UNREST.  81 


lini'e^t. 


QUEEIsr  Autumn  reigned  that  day  o'er  all  the 
earth, 
Painting  the  woods  with  gold  and  ruby  red ; 
And  scattered  at  our  feet  upon  the  heath, 
Fair  trophies,  dying — dead. 

The  babbling  silvery  rivulet  at  our  feet, 
Sang  o'er  again  the  dear  old  magic  song ; 

And  e'en  the  birds  caught  up  the  echo  sweet, 
As  fast  it  sped  along 

Far  to  the  sunny  Southland,  where  no  night, 
No  winter  of  the  year  can  ever  come ; 

But  where  Queen  Summer  reigns  forever  bright, 
In  her  perpetual  home. 

Ah,  me !  we  little  thought  that  day  the  stream 
Of  our  lives  should  flow  so  far  apart ; 

Your's  rolls  as  calmly  as  a  summer's  dream, 
Needing  no  sorcerer's  art 

To  chase  the  shade  of  sorrow  from  thy  brow. 
Or  from  thy  heart  the  demon  of  unrest ; 

You  've  love  and  peace  and  quiet  with  you  now, 
No  phantom  haunts  thy  breast. 
5 


82  UNREST. 

Mine  rolls  on  the  tumultuous  sea  of  life, 
And  oft  the  angry  waves  sweep  o'er  the  deck, 

Taking  all  peace  and  quiet  in  their  strife, 
And  leaving  but  a  wreck. 

The  shadows  of  the  past  still  hover  round, 
Pursued  by  the  grim  demon  of  despair. 

Dear  friend,  where  shall  sweet,  perfect  peace  be 
found  ? 
Alas !  alas !  not  here. 


TO  M.  R.  R,  83 


¥o  M-  %  % 


"Yes,  by  the  magic  of  a  word, 

A  far-off  stranger  is  a  friend ; 
With  face  unseen,  with  voice  unheard, 
Yet  whose  deep  soul  our  own  hath  stirred 

By  kindred  thoughts  that  meet  and  blend." — M.  R.  R. 

TDEYOND  the  Ocean's  snowy  wave,  beyond  the 

-*— ^     mountain's  peak, 

We  stretch  our  hands  across  the  sea,  to  find  the  one 

we  seek ; 
The  lengthening  miles  may  intervene,  years  after 

years  may  roll. 
Yet  they  can  never  break  the  chain  that  binds  the 

kindred  soul. 

By  the  enchantment  of  your  song,  the  magic  of  a 

th6ught, 
You  threw  afar  the  "  mystic  tie,"  which  fairy  hands 

hath  wrought; 
And  down  the  silent  aisles  of  time,  by  idle  fancy  led, 
We  caught  the  echo  of  its  chime,  and  heard  Love's 

gentle  tread. 

It  whispered  of  a  stranger  friend,  beyond  the  roll- 
ing sea, 


84  TO  M,  R.  R, 


Of  kindred  thoughts  that  meet,  and  blend  in  per- 
fect harmony ; 

And  so  we  wished  to  see  your  face,  and  longed 
your  voice  to  hear. 

To  know  the  unknown  friend  afar,  and  keep  you 
ever  near. 

We  called  you  to  our  sunny  home,  and  yet  you 
.never  came ; 

We  sang  of  all  her  beauties  fair,  and  of  her  golden 
fame; 

We  thought  to  win  you,  stranger  friend,  to  the  Pa- 
cific shore, 

For  here  has  ever  been  our  home,  and  will  be  ever 
more. 

The  Golden  State  holds  in  her  clasp  the  friends  of 

childhood's  hours. 
And  memory  seeks  the  silent  graves,  long  hidden 

'neath  the  flowers. 
We  are  not  sad,  there  are  no  nights  spent  in  long 

ceaseless  weeping. 
We  know  within  our  inmost  hearts  they  are  not 

dead,  but  sleeping. 

There  are  no  dead ;  hear  through  all  space  our 
Father's  voice  repeating, 

"Eternity  shall  last  for  aye,  the  days  of  time  are 
fleeting." 

And  when  we  too  shall  cross  the  tide,  and  step  be- 
yond the  river. 

We  know  we'll  meet  them,  bright  and  fair,  and  keep 
them  true  forever. 


TO  M,  R.  R.  85 


Yet  we  have  still  that  mystic  word  which  never 

should  be  broken, 
It  comes  uncalled  into  our  hearts  and  leaves  sweet 

friendship's  token. 
And  so  we  send   you,  thongh    afar,  within   your 

northern  home 
These  lines  of  welcome,  and  a  wish  that  you  may 

some  day  roam 

Where  flowers  bloom  in  rich  array,  and  summer  finds 

no  tomb, 
Where  winter's  icy  breath  is  caught  in  Flora's  rich 

perfume. 
You  are  a  daughter  of  the  North,  we  of  the  Golden 

Strand, 
Here  long,  drear  Winter  never  conies  within  our 

sunny  land. 

Oh !  stranger  Friend,  across  the  sea,  we  stretch  to 

you  our  hands. 
Knowing  full  well  that  kindred  hearts  may  beat  in 

distant  lands ; 
And  feeling  the  old  adage  true,  to  which  our  faith 

clings  fast, 
"  That  every  soul  may  know  its  kin  wherever  they 

are  cast." 


A   WARNING. 


(X; 


^  Wkri^iq^. 


You  'd  like  to  see  what  that  fish  has  seen  ? 

Yes,  so  would  I. 
To  roam  in  the  sea-weed  arbors  green, 
Down  where  the  mermaid's  glittering  sheen 
Is  held  by  fingers  so  white,  I  ween, 
'T  would  make  you  sigh. 

I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate, 

That  yours  are  not 
As  white  as  those  in  the  crystal  gate, 
Which  shuts  us  mortals  beyond  the  strait, 
For  air  and  water  will  never  mate. 

So  't  is  not  our  lot 

To  roam  in  the  mermaid's  shady  dell : 

Think  you  't  is  right 
To  flirt  so  much  *?  but  then,  ah !  well. 
It  is  not  right  for  us  mortals  to  tell. 
Hear  the  distant  chime  of  the  evening  bell, 

Creep  tlirough  the  night. 

The  mermaid  combs  her  golden  hair 
Out  by  the  beach ; 


A   WARNING.  87 


And  sailors  affrightened  call  her  fair, 
As  she  winds  them  on  into  her  snare, 
Caught  in  the  meshes  of  golden  hair, 
Out  of  their  reach. 

Yet  I  know  some  who  roam  on  land. 

Silly  as  those, 
Caught  by  a  little  snowy  hand  ; 
Curls  held  back  by  a  golden  band. 
Thinking  they  hold  love's  magic  wand 

To  charm  the  rose. 

Careful  enchanter,  the  spell  is  lost ; 

Her  eyes  are  bright : 
Look  out !   or  you  will  find  to  your  cost 
There's  something  meant  by  the  dainty  toss 
Of  her  head,  and  her  smile,  like  frost, 

Goes  with  the  light. 

You  might  have  won  ;  but  that  absurd  way 

Of  being  so  sure 
Taught  her  woman  heart  a  trick  to  play, 
Not  to  be  wooed  and  won  in  a  day ; 
The  endless  pain  in  her  heart  will  stay ; 

But  that  she'll  endure. 

What  makes  you  men  so  sure  of  the  prize 

Before  you  win? 
Don't  you  know  one  glance  of  those  calm  eyes 
Will  look  through  alj  your  words  and  sighs, 
For  the  soul  where  truth  and  honor  lies 

Your  life  within  ? 

vrTHF 

[VERSITYj 


88  A   WARNING. 


You  '11  surely  lose  if  you  woo  by  art ; 

'T  is  all  in  vain, 
Unless  you  win  her  pure  heart, 
Acting  a  noble,  manly  part, 
You  '11  find  your  life  a  dreary  mart 

Filled  but  with  pain. 


BESIDE  THE  SEA.  89 


©e^ide  tl\e  ^ek. 


'  I  'HE  fairy  wand  of  Autumn  painted 
^       In  colors  bright  the  forest  leaves, 
As  Sumraer  fled  away  and  fainted 

Amidst  the  wealth  of  golden  sheaves; 
For  she  had  reigned  throughout  the  season 

A  queen ;  we  bent  to  her  the  knee  : 
Ah !    shall  I  tell  to  you  the  reason  ? 

Her  months  were  spent  beside  the  sea. 

A  merry  trio  there  together, 

Yet  we  had  other  friends  beside ; 
In  all  that  golden  tropic  weather. 

Love  found  his  hands  securely  tied. 
We  had  no  thought  of  stern  contention, 

No  care,  we  were  so  truly  free  ; 
And  yet  it  would  'nt  do  to  mention 

The  half  we  saw  beside  the  sea. 

I  know  that  you  can't  see  the  pleasure. 
Who  spent  your  summer  months  in  town ; 

'T  was  those  who  went  that  found  the  treasure ; 
Indeed,  you  need  n't  try  to  frown, 

I  will  not  hear  a  word  of  preaching ; 
Next  summer  you  may  come  and  see 
5* 


90  BESIDE  THE  SEA, 

How  much  we  care  for  all  your  teaching, 
If  we  can  dwell  beside  the  sea. 

There  now  !  you  're  reading  that  old  letter, 

I  wish  you  would  put  it  away ; 
Those  two  girls  are  no  worse  nor  better 

Than  they  were  on  that  very  day 
They  wrote  to  me  upon  that  paper — 

I  shall  not  tell  you  what  was  meant ; 
Well,  well,  it  was  a  funny  ca^^er. 

And  fun  was  in  those  days  we  spent. 

Our  happiest  moments  fly  the  fleetest. 

But  leave  their  traces  in  our  hearts ; 
And  there  are  some  we  hold  the  sweetest, 

Bound  up  with  mischiefs  merry  arts. 
Perhaps  you  would  not  have  enjoyed 

The  life  we  led  so  idly  free  ; 
And  you,  too,  might  have  been  annoyed 

By  all  w^e  loved  beside  the  sea. 

When  night  came  on  with  royal  beauty, 

And  lit  the  waves  with  magic  fire  ; 
Then  Neptune  summoned  up  to  duty 

The  glow-worm  on  his  slender  spire 
Of  sea«weed,  tossed  up  by  the  daughters 

Who  dwell  within  the  briny  deep  ; 
'T  was  then  we  sat  beside  the  waters. 

And  watched  the  dark-browed  billows  leap. 

And  when  the  snowy  foam  came  creeping. 
White-rimmed  upon  the  dull  gray  sand; 
It  then  crept  back  to  ocean,  weeping, 


BESIDE  THE  SEA.  91 

Only  to  find  some  other  strand  ; 
While  you  and  I,  and  others  walking 

Beside  the  cliff  that  towered  high, 
Now  sadly  thinking,  gayly  talking, 

Or  listening  to  the  sea-bird's  cry. 

The  pleasant  summer  months  are  past ; 

Now  winter  claims  his  icy  crown, 
And  all  the  pleasures  known,  at  last 

Have  fled  before  his  chilly  frown. 
Yet  not  from  our  lives  forbidden — 

Exiles  they  can  never  be  ; 
We  know  how  safely  they  are  hidden 

Down  in  the  cells  of  memory. 


92  A  BIRTHDAY  POEM. 

^  Sii'tliday  t^oeq, 

Written  for  Two  Sisters. 


TD  RIGHT  shines  the  sun  upon  your  natal  day  ; 

^—^    Bright  bloom  the  flowers  in  our  southern  clime, 
Thus  may  fate  ever  fling  across  your  way 

The  richest  gifts  of  Nature  and  of  Time : 
Blest  sisters,  may  the  future  never  cease 
To  fold  you  'neath  the  snowy  wings  of  peace. 

Dear  dark-eyed  Helen,  in  thy  days  of  youth, 
Fair  as  the  beauteous  queen  of  ancient  Troy, 

May  Fancy's  early  dreams  prove  only  truth, 
Where  doubt  and  pain  shall  never  dare  annoy; 

And  may  you  ever  dwell  within  the  shrine 

Where  hearts  shall  yield  their  keeping  unto  thine. 

Some  goddess  rules  within  each  living  soul, 
And  proves  its  blessing  or  its  greatest  curse ; 

And  angel  watchers  noting  her  control, 

Smile  when  the  evil  passions  are  dispersed : 

Methinks  she  taught  to  you  the  magic  art 

To  write  your  name  forever  on  each  heart. 

And  blue-eyed  Nannie,  with  thy  golden  hair, 
Shedding  a  halo  round  thy  girlish  face, 


A  BIRTHDA  V  POEM.  93 

Sweet  be  thy  life,  as  thou  art  sweetly  fair, 

Crowning  thy  soul  with  every  winning  grace : 
Would  we  could  cheat  old  Time  out  of  his  prize, 
And  keep  the  girl-light  ever  in  your  eyes. 

You  tread  with  eager  steps  the  flowery  track 
That  leads  thee  up  the  rugged  hill  of  life ; 

The  future  is  so  fair  you  ne  'er  look  back 

To  count  the  pleasures  in  thy  childhood  rife ; 

Then  may  your  young  soul  ever  as  to-day 

Look  up  the  future's  golden-lighted  way. 

Fair  sisters,  as  you  sing  your  evening  hymn, 
And  the  sweet  anthem  wanders  up  to  God, 

Perhaps  some  soul  that  lives  where  all  is  dim. 
Passing  in  sorrow  underneath  the  rod. 

May  catch  a  glimpse  of  comfort  in  the  strain, 

And  bless  the  singer  for  the  song  again. 

May  your  feet  never  reach  life's  troubled  tide. 
Your  lips  the  cup  of  joy  «inly  taste  ; 

Yet  should  you  wander  on  the  darker  side. 
Send,  as  your  envoy,  Hope,  over  the  waste. 

Then  may  the  dove  quickly  return  and  bring 

An  olive  branch  beneath  her  snowy  wing. 


94  THE  RAINBOW. 


¥l\e  f{ciii\bow. 


Up  o  'er  the  tops  of  the  mountains, 
The  clouds  were  fleeing  away ; 
Forming  pale,  aerial  castles, 

At  close  of  the  dying  day ; 
The  sun,  with  his  fading  splendor, 

Had  gilded  this  castle  of  air. 
With  a  weird  unearthly  beauty. 

Which  reached  down  the  golden  stair. 

Ah  !   thou  radiant  bow  of  promise, 

Oh  !   messenger  sent  from  God,^ 
Come  you  from  serial  castles. 

To  rest  on  earth's  flower-crowned  sod  ? 
Can  the  loved  ones  who  have  left  us 

Wander  down  the  golden  stair, 
Bringing  heaven  from  God's  palace. 

So  that  heaven  is  everywhere  ? 

Looking  from  the  royal  palace, 

Where  they  tread  with  noiseless  feet, 

Clad  in  garments  white  and  pure. 
With  their  voices  low  and  sweet ; 

Do  they  miss  us  there,  and  wonder 
When  our  journey  will  be  o'er  ? 


THE  RAINBOW,  95 


When  we,  too,  shall  solve  the  mystery 
And  pass  through  the  palace  door? 

Or  can  they  with  stronger  vision. 

Solve  the  mystery  of  life. 
See  the  end  from  the  commencement, 

Smile  at  all  the  toil  and  strife  ? 
Knowing  when  our  journey  's  o'er. 

And  our  souls  shall  long  for  rest 
He  will  gather  up  earth's  weary. 

Making  them  more  truly  blest. 

Oh  !   thou  radiant  bow  of  promise. 

Signet  of  our  Father's  love ; 
As  a  link  bind  earth  with  heaven. 

Draw  us  to  our  lost  above ; 
And  when  night  shall  drop  her  curtain. 

Bidding  rest  go  everywhere. 
Call  our  angels  from  God's  palace. 

To  pass  down  your  golden  stair. 


96  TWILIGHT  MUSINGS. 


^wili^ht   M^^^m^^- 


WHEN  the  curtain  of  twilight  drops  over  the 
earth, 
Hiding  all  of  its  trouble  and  strife, 
And  stills  with  its  shade  the  noisy  mirth, 

And  steals  the  care  from  our  life, 
We  love  to  yield  to  the  magical  powers. 
And  wander  with  thought  through  Fancy's  bowers. 

Careless  of  pleasures  that  are  near  or  afar, 

Forgetting  this  sad  world  below  ; 
We  turn  our  eyes  to  yon  bright  evening  star, 

Watching  where  they  twinkle  and  glow ; 
Wheel  on,  brilliant  worlds,  in  your  circle  above. 
Guided  through  all  space  by  the  Father  we  love. 

That  Father  so  great  He  can  mark  out  your  path , 

So  gentle  he  watches  the  bird ; 
While  man  whispers  to  us  of  terrible  wrath. 
Through  Nature  love's  accents  are  heard ; 
Then   stop,   as   you  call   down  the  vengeance  of 

heaven, 
And  list  to  the  whispers  that  creep  through  the 
even. 


TWILIGHT  MUSINGS.  97 

You  teach  unto  us  this  great  love  exceedeth 

The  love  that 's  felt  by  a  mother  ; 
You  tell  unto  us  the  pity  that  pleadeth 

For  man  as  a  poor  lost  brother ; 
And  then  you  turn  round  and  condemn  him  forever, 
And  hurl  him  across  the  Plutonian  river. 

Think  you,  should  we  wander  through  fields  Elysian, 

And  miss  in  that  circle  so  bright, 
One  form  that  was  dear  to  our  earthly  vision. 

That  all  the  angels  in  white 
Gould  lift  from  our  souls  the  shadow  of  sorrow  ? 
It  would  rankle  deep  as  a  poisoned  arrow. 

Ah !    a  true  mother's  love  is  past  all  power 

Of  the  tongue  or  pen  to  tell  it, 
'T  will  cling  to  her  child  to  the  latest  hour  ; 

All  the  world  could  not  buy  or  sell  it : 
If  this  is  so  great,  what  must  be  that  other. 
Which  reacheth  beyond  the  love  of  a  mother ! 

There  are  some  who  will  not  be  ruled  by  terror. 

Even  to  reach  the  pearly  gate  ; 
And  some  who  wander  the  dark  road  of  error, 

And  for  the  teacher  wait  and  wait : 
Remember,  't  was  unto  the  sick  the  Healer  came, 
Then  go  ye  doing  likewise  in  your  Saviour's  name. 

He  came  not  down  from  heaven  to  save  the  pure. 

But  for  those  lost  in  vice  and  sin ; 
For  these  the  cross  and  shame  did  he  endure. 

For  these  the  crown  of  victory  win ; 


98  TWILIGHT  MUSINGS. 

If  His  mighty  love  hath  not  the  power  to  save, 
How  many  breaking  hearts  will  last  beyond  the 
grave  ? 

When  the  pale  boatman  comes  to  row  us  o'er, 
And  we  stand  upon  the  border  land, 

Shall  we  not  see  upon  that  distant  shore, 
Our  loved  ones'  beckoning  hand  ? 

Would  it  be  heaven,  if  we  knew  they  were  lost, 

Although  we  joined  the  most  seraphic  host? 

We  grope  in  darkness  searching  for  the  light. 
Then  oh !  condemn  not  if  ye  chance  to  see 

A  ray  hid  from  the  others  in  their  night — 
Our  lives  are  full  of  mystery ; 

And  only  He  who  can  unwind  the  skein 

Can  solve  the  mysteries  in  life's  dark  train. 


MOTHER,  HOME,  AND  HE  A  VEN,  99 


jMot'hei',  Some,  kr\d  Sekvei). 


Mother. 

n^HE  holiest,  purest  and  sweetest  of  earth, 
^       Around  which  our  fancy  of  Jbeauty  and  worth 
Are  circling  forever ;  old  Time  cannot  change 
One  thought  of  our  childhood,  in  all  its  wide  range  ; 
We  may  turn  from  her  arms  to  the  hand  of  another, 
But  the  first  and  the  purest  is  ever  our  mother. 

Home. 
Oh,  Time !  turning  backward  your  pages  to-day. 
We  see  it  in  fancy  so  far,  far  away. 
So  hallowed  in  brightness,  so  rich  in  its  love, 
It  seemed  as  though  Heaven  came  down  from  above  ; 
And  the  thoughts  that  hold  longest  wherever  we 

roam, 
Forming  pictures   most   brightly,  are  Mother  and 

Home. 

Heaven. 

In  the  home  of  our  childhood  we  knelt  by  her  side. 
To  ask  the  dear  Saviour  to  protect,  love  and  guide, 
To  keep  us  so  safely  in  all  time  to  come. 
And  call  us  at  last  to  His  heavenly  home. 
Oh,  Memory  !  hold  fast  unto  life's  last  even — 
The   sweetest   of  all   words  —  Mother,  Home   and 
Heaven. 


100  THE  BOY'S  REQUEST. 


Yl\e  8oyV  ^eijue^t. 


OH !  let  me  go !  oh !  let  me  go ! 
Why  should  I  ever  stay  at  home  ? 
The  world  is  wide,  and  to  and  fro 
I'll  seek  my  fortune  as  I  roam. 

You  throw  your  arms  around  me  now, 
You  hold  me  with  your  tender  love ; 

You  press  your  kisses  on  my  brow. 
You  pray  God  watch  me  from  above. 

Oh,  mother  !  out  into  the  world 

Your  boy  will  go,  all  staunch  and  true, 

And  when  Fame's  banners  are  unfurled, 
I  '11  bring  her  richest  gifts  to  you. 

I  know  you  say  it  from  your  heart. 
You  love  me  better  by  your  side ; 

Yet  in  life  all  must  bear  their  part — 
Let  mine  be  worthy  of  your  pride. 

Oh,  mother !  I  will  go  and  gain 
A  hero's  name — a  soldier's  crown, 

And  I  '11  erect  life's  golden  fane. 
So  it  shall  never  crumble  down. 


THE  BOY'S  REQUEST,  101 

Then  let  me  go !    oh !  let  me  go ! 

Why  should  I  stay  at  home  ? 
The  world  is  wide,  and  to  and  fro 

I  '11  seek  my  fortune  as  I  roam.   . 


102  BY  THE  WINDOW. 


8y  ti^e  Wir\dow. 


T   HAD  grown  tired  of  study, 
^     So  I  laid  my  text-book  down, 
And  I  watched  the  faces  passing 
By  my  window  in  the  town. 

Some  were  plain,  and  some  were  pretty. 
Some  were  good,  and  others  bad ; 

But  I  most  was  interested 
In  a  little  lass  and  lad. 

He  looked  eight,  but  she  was  younger, 
With  a  pretty,  dimpled  face ; 

In  her  wealth  of  golden  ringlets 
Sunbeams  found  a  resting-place. 

He  was  pale  ;  those  eyes  of  midnight 

Held  a  dreamy,  far-off  look. 
Which  the  poets  all  call  genius — 

In  his  hand  he  held  a  book. 

Watching  them,  I  saw  him  speaking  ; 

Listening,  I  heard  him  say : 
"  Little  Nina,  let  me  help  you. 

For  the  way  is  long  to-day." 


BY  THE  WINDOW.  103 

Then  he  took  her  hand  so  gently, 

Led  her  with  such  tender  care, 
That  I  thought  no  other  couple 

Walked  the  earth  so  pure  and  fair. 

If  we  would  but  help  each  other 

As  we  tread  life's  weary  road, 
Think  you  not  each  poor,  tired  traveler 

Would  not  bear  a  lighter  load  ? 

All  of  us  must  bear  our  burdens  ; 

Each  and  every  heart  must  ache ; 
But  oh  !  fellow-traveler !  pity 

The  sad,  weary  hearts  that  break. 


104  AMONG  THE  ROSES, 


^11)011^  tl\e   f{o^e^. 


T7"ES  !    long  ago  when  we  sat  there 

-*-       Among  the  roses ; 
Our  little  world  was  bright  and  fair 

As  those  sweet  roses. 
You  placed  the  white  one  in  my  hair ; 
You  wove  for  me  a  garland  rare, 
And  said,  "  Love,  you  alone  shall  wear 

This  till  life  closes." 

Now  years  have  come,  and  years  have  gone- 
Faded  the  roses ; 

The  tide  of  life  still  rolling  on, 
New  joy  discloses. 

The  arbor  holds  as  green  a  throne 

As  when  the  sun  o'er  it  shone. 

And  you  and  I  were  all  alone 
Among  the  roses. 

But  bring  the  years  which  hold  us  now, 

Pure  white  roses ; 
Think  you  they  bind  my  aching  brow, 

And  love  reposes  ? — 
As  if  the  time  were  present  now. 
Which  heard  the  youthful  lovers'  vow. 


AMONG  THE  ROSES.  105 


And  saw  the  maiden's  blushing  brow, 
Among  the  roses  ? 

Ah  !  life  is  not  without  its  thorn, 

Though  crowned  with  roses? 

We  find  it  in  life's  early  morn 
Where  love  reposes. 

When  drops  of  blood  the  brow  adorn. 

If  we  'd  escape  the  world's  deep  scoan. 

The  only  wreath  that  can  be  worn 
Is  of  red  roses. 

They  hide  the  crimson  drops  from  sight. 

Pure,  sweet  roses ; 
The  sharp  thorns,  crowned  with  blossoms  bright, 

No  hand  discloses ; 
Yet  when  earth  dons  her  robe  of  night, 
And  stars  send  down  their  twinkling  light, 
Our  hearts  will  sigh  for  youth  so  bright 

Among  the  roses. 


6 


106  CARRIE, 


CkMe. 


p\EAR  CARRIE !  On  thy  natal  day— 
-*— ^       Thanksgiving  of  the  year, 
When  all  the  nation  kneels  to  pray, 
And  kindred  hearts  grow  dear — 
I  write  this  tribute,  little  one, 

And  in  thy  future  life 
I  pray  that  each  thanksgiving  sun 
With  golden  beams  be  rife. 

And  may  the  sunlight  through  all  time 

Be  lost  among  your  curls ; 
Thy  life  be  one  unbroken  rhyme, 

Thou  one  unblemished  pearl. 
May  hearts  as  fondly  turn  to  thee. 

Dear  little  brown-eyed  one. 
With  all  their  wealth  of  purity, 

As  oft  thy  mother  won. 

"  A  sweeter  woman  ne'er  drew  breath," 
Than  she  who 's  passed  away 

Down  through  the  silent  waves  of  death 
To  God's  eternal  day. 

She  won  our  hearts  this  side  the  tomb, 
She  holds  them  over  there 


CARRIE.  107 


Where  youth  and  love  forever  bloom, 
And  everything  is  fair. 

Dear  Carrie  !     May  the  mother  love, 

Which  follows  thee  through  life. 
And  watches  from  the  skies  above, 

Protect  thee  from  all  strife ; 
I  ne'er  could  wish  a  better  fate 

Than  you  might  grow  like  her, 
And  bind  in  woman's  fair  estate 

Love,  as  thy  courtier. 


108  THE  BEAUTIFUL   BAY, 


¥l\e   Sekntiful  Sky. 


SEE  the  sun's  red  light 
On  the  waves  flash  bright, 
As  in  tranquil  beauty  they  stray, 
Or  break  on-  the  shore 
A  wild,  angry  roar, 
Down,  down  by  the  beautiful  bay. 

The  boat  is  untied. 
O'er  the  waves  I  '11  glide 

Where  the  little  fish  leap  and  play; 
Try  to  sail  from  myself 
Underneath  yonder  shelf 

That  o'ershadows  tlie  beautiful  bay. 

I  try  all  in  vain ; 

Self  comes  o'er  the  main 
To  sail  on  the  waters  to-day  ; 

Would  they  miss  me  at  home. 

If  I  slept  'neath  the  foam 
Of  thy  waves,  O  beautiful  bay  ? 

Would  they  think  I  had  gone 
Where  the  throng  wanders  on — 
The  gayest  amidst  all  the  gay  ? 
They  never  would  dream 


THE  BEAUTIFUL   BAY.  109 

That  the  stars'  pale  gleam 
Watched  my  grave  in  the  cold  blue  bay. 

O  thou  cold,  cold  grave ! 

'Neath  the  calm  blue  wave, 
Are  you  tempting  me  with  some  fay  ? — 

To  try  all  in  vain 

To  drown  this  deep  pain 
'Neath  the  waves  of  yon  treacherous  bay  ? 

As  they  roll  evermore 

To  the  gay,  happy  shore. 
Think  you  there  is  rest  ^neath  their  spray  ? 

'T  is  a  treacherous  peace ; 

How  soon  it  will  cease 
When  the  storm  comes  down  o'er  the  bay. 

Back  !  back,  little  boat ! 

To  the  shore  we  '11  float, 
And  leave  the  blue  waters  to  play ; 

For  they  never  must  tell 

What  a  strange,  mystic  spell 
Wooed  me  to  the  beautiful  bay. 

For  though  dark  be  our  life. 

With  its  toil  and  its  strife. 
We  know  it  will  not  last  alway ; 

And  we  shall  find  rest 

With  the  pure  and  the  blest. 
When  we  sail  out  of  life's  rough  bay. 


110  WHAT  THOUGH? 


Wl\kt  ¥l\oii^l\? 


WHAT  though  the  shadows  darker  grow> 
And  cast  o'er  life  a  shade  ? 
What  though  bright  flowers  that  we  love 
Should  pine  away  and  fade  ? 

What  though  the  pleasure  that  we  seek 

Should  be  a  sunbeam  bright, 
And  when  we  reach  our  hand  to  grasp, 

Should  melt  in  air  and  light  ? 

What  though  the  form  we  love  the  best — 
How  well  no  tongue  can  tell — 

And  listening  for  that  voice  so  dear, 
We  only  hear  Death's  knell? 

What  though  we  love  another  well. 

We  ne'er  shall  call  our  own  ; 
And  when  we  strive  to  clasp  the  pearl, 

We  find  our  idol  flown  ? 

What  though  we  find  this  strange,  cold  world 

Hath  given  us  husks  to  eat  ? 
Must  we  bow  down  before  her  shrine. 

And  say  such  food  is  sweet  ? 


BABY  LIZZIE.  Ill 


Bkby  I<i^^ie. 


HERE  I  have  come  to-day, 
Baby  Lizzie ; 
Let  us  have  a  merry  play, 

Baby  Lizzie. 
O,  don  't  make  up  such  a  lip — 
There 's  a  tear  ready  to  drip ; 
Did  I  offend  your  ladyship. 
Baby  Lizzie  ? 

I  a  thousand  pardons  crave, 

Baby  Lizzie ; 
I  could  never  that  lip  brave, 

Baby  Lizzie. 
Ah !  there  now  I  see  you  smile — 
You  grow  sweeter  all  the  while. 
With  your  life  all  free  from  guile. 

Baby  Lizzie. 

Your  life  numbers  of  months  seven. 

Baby  Lizzie  ; 
You  are  only  late  from  heaven, 

Baby  Lizzie. 
That  is  why  you  are  so  dear 
To  us  weary  wanderers  here ; 
To  God  you  are  very  near. 

Baby  Lizzie. 


112  BABY  LIZZIE. 


May  your  life  be  always  pure, 

Baby  Lizzie ; 
In  your  pleasant  home  secure, 

Baby  Lizzie ; 
May  your  mother  never  miss 
Baby's  laugh,  and  baby's  kiss. 
Crowning  all  her  life  with  bliss. 

Baby  Lizzie. 


WILLIE.  113 


Willie. 


r^vREAMING  idly  in  the  parlor, 

-■— ^       While  without  the  raindrops  fall, 

Sat  I  listening  to  their  patter. 

Till  I  heard  my  baby  call : 
"Mamma!  mamma!"   (dancing 'round  me,) 

"  See !  the  fire  is  very  low  ; 
Tell  me,  mamma — may  I  fix  it? 

For  I'm  growing  big,  you  know  !  " 

Then  I  sat  and  watched  my  baby — 

Little  Willie,  four  years  old — 
With  his  eyes  of  tropic  splendor. 

And  his  hair  like  fine-spun  gold  ; 
Listening  to  the  childish  prattle 

Of  the  baby  voice  so  sweet; 
I  forgot  the  world  was  weary. 

For  love's  charms  are  so  complete. 

"  Mamma !  "  (and  he  whispered  sagely,) 

"  When  I  get  to  be  a  man, 
O,  I  '11  do  such  wonders  for  you, 

And  I  '11  love  you  all  I  can." 
Then  he  gave  a  shower  of  kisses, 

Held  nae  by  his  chubby  hand, 
6* 


lit  WILLIE, 


Saying,  "  Do  n't  forget,  my  mamma — 
I  shall,  too,  be  great  and  grand." 

Yet  I  answered,  "  Listen,  Willie  ! 

Coming  years  will  manhood  bring ; 
Then  I  'd  have  my  boy  remember 

Greatness  is  a  little  thing, 
If  it  go  not  forth  with  goodness. 

All  the  truly  great  of  earth 
Have  been  good  ere  they  were  great,  love ; 

Goodness  is  of  heavenly  birth." 

Folded  close  I  clasped  my  baby, 

With  his  head  upon  my  breast; 
Prayed  that  coming  years  might  never 

Bring  him  misery  and  unrest. 
More  than  all  the  worlds  that  circle 

Through  the  mystic  realms  of  space, ^ 
Is  to  me  my  little  hero. 

With  his  merry,  loving  face. 


A    GARLAND,  115 


^  Gf^d^tid. 


T  F  flowers  be  the  language  of  love, 
^     I  '11  weave  here  a  garland  for  thee ; 
But  if  love  be  the  language  of  angels, 
Flowers  are  the  letters  we  see. 

The  alphabet  is  rather  intricate  ; 

The  angels  have  carried  away 
The  sounds,  and  left  only  the  letters, 

What  wonder,  then,  that  we  should  stray  ? 

Just  now,  in  the  hush  of  the  evening. 
While  the  angels  are  tending  the  dew 

I  '11  write  here  a  letter  in  flowers. 
And  love  must  translate  it  for  you. 

We  've  been  more  to  each  other  than  friends ; 

Then,  first,  the  arborvitae  bring : 
Shall  we  put  the  ambrosia  beside  it  ? 

The  heliotrope  place  'neath  the  string? 

Now  bring  me  the  white  calla  lily ; 

The  rosebud  shall  here  find  its  place  ; 
The  lilac  will  look  well  beside  it ; 

The  locust,  with  sweet-scented  grace. 


116  A    GARLAND 


The  orange-flower,  fresh  in  its  beauty ; 

All  three  of  the  jessamines  bring  next ; 
The  double  red  pink,  and  the  white  ones ; 

The  amaranth  holds  life's  best  text. 

Don 't  forget  the  blooms  of  the  lemon, 
When  the  tuberose  touches  thy  brow ; 

See  it  crushes  not  out  the  snowball ; 
Keep  the  wild  rose  with  thee  now. 

But  shun  the  coboea,  my  darling ; 

The  hellebore,  cast  it  away ; 
The  bramble,  a  burglar,  keep  not ; 

The  ophrys  would  lead  thee  astray. 

Right  here  are  the  red  and  white  daisies. 
And  forget  not  the  flowering  reed ; 

The  pearbloom  is  something  you  '11  long  for, 
Houstonia  something  you  '11  need. 

We  '11  pick  now  the  sweet-scented  violet  ; 

This  mint  branch  you  ever  must  keep  ; 
White  chrysanthemum  you  always  must  cherish, 

Though  life's  road  be  dark  and  steep. 

The  garland  is  finished,  querida: 

Forgive,  if  it  is  not  complete ; 
A  lesson 's  deep  hid  in  each  flower — 

I  've  o:ffered  sweets  unto  the  sweet. 


LINES   TO  ADDIE.  117 


I<ii:\e^  to  Sddie. 


T  A  7"  HAT  shall  I  wish  upon  this  day, 

^  ^       Fair  girlish  friend  of  mine  ? 
That  life's  dark  shadows  ne'er  should  stray 

Across  this  life  of  thine  ? 
How  vain,  indeed,  't  would  ever  be 
For  me  to  ask  this  gift  for  thee. 

The  fates  who  hold  our  hidden  lives 

Know  only  what  they  are  ; 
And  yet  I  hope  all  baneful  gyves 

Be  banished  from  thee  far : 
That  love  may  rule  your  future  years, 
And  joy  may  laugh  away  your  tears. 

That  you  may  find  upon  your  way 

Flowers  of  every  hue, 
And  loving  hands  may  fling  each  day 

Their  blessings  kind  and  true  ; 
Still  keep  your  heart,  my  darling  girl, 
As  pure  as  ocean's  purest  pearl. 

You  stand  upon  that  mystic  shore, 

The  path  is  all  untried ; 
Your  school-girl  days  and  life  no  more 


118  LINES   TO  ADDIE. 

Shall  fill  your  heart  with  pride ; 
You  enter  in  another  world, 
Where  Hope's  gay  banner  is  unfurled. 

Oh !   may  riot  disappointment's  hand 

Pull  the  bright  ensign  down ; 
Happiness  drive  him  from  your  land, 

And  shield  you  from  his  frown ; 
And  may  you  never  learn  the  art 
To  smile  above  a  broken  heart. 

Yet  should  dark  sorrow  cross  your  path, 

And  dim  your  laughing  eyes, 
And  should  you  sink  beneath  his  wrath, 

Look  up  beyond  the  skies ; 
For  there  no  sorrow  '11  ever  come 
In  love  and  joy's  perpetual  home. 

And  while  the  future  years  shall  roll. 
Bringing  each  birthday  round, 

Will  you  remain  as  now,  heart-whole  ? 
Or  listen  to  the  sound 

Of  whisperings  from  another  voice, 

'T  will  cause  your  girl-heart  to  rejoice? 

Be  careful  how  you  choose,  lest  time 
Should  turn  your  gold  to  dross ; 

Young  Fancy  dreams  of  the  sublime 
That  often  hides  a  cross : 

Ah  !   many  hearts  to-day  can  tell 

Where  Hope's  bright  form  will  never  dwell. 

Yet  should  you  ever  win  the  part 
That  crowns  a  woman's  life. 


LINES  TO  ADDIE.  119 

Then  when  your  loving,  trusting  heart 

Answers  the  name  of  wife — 
May  love  go  with  you  through  all  time, 
Keep  true  your  vows  in  every  clime. 


120  IN  MEMORIAM. 


\\\   jVLeinorikuq. 


I\     BROWN  leaf  on  the  garden  walk. 
-^^     A  blush  rose  on  the  tree, 
A  lily  drooping  on  her  stalk, 

A  wild  bird's  raelody  ; 
The  heliotrope  in  rich  perfume. 

Geranium  blossoms  gay, 
An  underbrush  of  twilight  gloom, 

That  hides  the  glare  of  day. 

I  seem  to  see,  as  in  a  dream, 

A  sweet  face  everywhere ; 
I  catch  the  merry  eyes'  bright  gleam, 

I  touch  the  brown-gold  hair ; 
A  living  presence  with  me  still. 

In  yard  and  house  and  room ; 
An  aching  void  that  none  can  fill, 

A  memory  from  the  tomb. 

I  strive  to  clasp  the  vision  fair, 

It  lightly  floats  away ; 
An  unseen  presence  fills  the  air, 

Eluding  me  each  day ; 
I  hear  a  voice  no  other  hears, 

A  silent,  noiseless  tread, 


IN  MEMORIAM,  121 


A  whisper  of  those  happy  years, 
Ere,  darling,  you  were  dead. 

How  much  I  miss  you  none  may  know, 

In  flower  and  bird  and  tree  ; 
Whate'er  1  do,  where'er  I  go, 

They  each  one  tell  of  thee  ; 
I  sometimes  feel  that  I  would  give 

All  that  the  world  could  hold, 
If  we  could  just  one  hour  live 

The  bright,  sweet  days  of  old. 

Yet  when  night  wears  her  starry  crown. 

And  bids  the  tired  earth  rest, 
And  dream-land  brings  her  realm  down 

With  visions  of  the  blest. 
Sleep  leaves  the  pearly  gates  ajar 

Where  angels  lightly  tread, 
I  wander  with  you,  darling,  there — 

The  living  and  the  dead. 

My  darling,  when  the  hand  of  Death 

Shall  smooth  earth's  cares  away, 
And  life  shall  claim  her  troubled  breath, 

And  all  her  weary  days, 
I  know  you  will  be  with  me  there. 

All  through  the  border-land  ; 
I  '11  see  your  face  divinely  fair 

And  touch  your  loving  hand. 


122  ISOLATION. 


I^olktion. 


T  N  the  dim  recess  of  my  heart's  hidden  chamber 

^         I  roam  alone  to-night, 

And  happy  forms — so  many  I  cannot  number — 

Come  to  my  spirit's  sight ; 
Ye  may  not  see  their  radiant,  winsome  glances, 

Nor  hear  those  voices  rare, 
Yet  those  who  yield  to  love's  bright  touching  fancies. 

Can  see  them  everywhere. 

The  past  is  one  great  storehouse  of  our  keeping — 

Each  heart  holds  its  own  key — 
Where  glad,  or  sad,  each  memory  lies  sleeping 

In  calm  security. 
No  traitor  hand  may  tear  the  veil  asunder, 

And  crush  our  idols  down  ; 
We  keep  them  closely  from  the  world's  cold  wonder 

And  Envy's  jealous  frown. 

The  touch  of  tender  hands  in  sweet  caressing, 

And  love's  last  cherished  kiss. 
That  falleth  o'er  our  lives  like  holy  blessing, 

Which  we  so  often  miss. 
'T  is  not  the  greatest  things  of  earth  we  cherish, 

But  little  words  of  love 


ISOLATION.  123 


From  lips  of  precious  ones  can  never  perish, 
Till  fall  the  stars  above. 

Day  after  day,  our  hearts  go  on  repeating 

An  anthem,  or  a  prayer ; 
Our  souls  must  rest  contented,  or  entreating 

That  love  may  dwell  somewhere. 
Oh !  passionate  soul,  long  sleeping  in  the  shadows  ! 

Wake  from  thy  dreary  night ! 
Somewhere   in   God's  great  world,  the    sparkling 

Are  filled  with  love's  own  light.       [meadows 

Somewhere  in  God's  great  world,  a  rose  of  beauty 

Will  blossom  but  for  thee ; 
Somewhere,  the  holy  bands  of  love  and  duty 

Shall  bind,  yet  make  thee  free. 
Oh !  restless,  fevered  heart !  still  thy  pulsations ! 

Be  calm  a  little  while ! 
If  dwelling  on  the  heights  above  the  nations. 

Free  from  their  loathsome  guile, 

You  feel  the  coldness  of  your  lonely  mountain, 

Look  up  beyond  the  sky — 
Up  through  the  cloud-mists  of  that  holy  fountain, 

Where  every  eager  cry 
Shall  find  its  answer  in  that  home  eternal. 

And  every  poet  dream 
Shall  greet  us  with  a  form  and  life  supernal. 

Through  all  our  lives  to  gleam. 

No  deed  or  thought  that  truly  worth  the  keeping 

Has  ever  really  flown, 
But  somewhere  down  the  aisles  of  memory  sleeping, 


124  ISO  LA  TION. 


Into  our  souls  has  grown. 
And  so  our  loved  ones,  passed  from  mortal  vision, 

Are  safe  forevermore — 
Close  in  that  radiant  home,  the  souls'  elysian. 

Beyond  the  crystal  door. 


WHEN 'MY  SHIP   COMES  IN  FROM  SEA.    125 


Wl:\er\  my  ^X^^  donqe^  ir\ 


WHEN"  my  ship  comes  in  from  sea," 
Quoth  a  maiden  merrily, 
Standing  on  the  rugged  strand. 
Where  the  water  touched  the  land, 
"  Over  yonder  blue  expanse 
I  shall  see  her  white  sails  dance, 
And  her  cargo  then  shall  be 
More  than  all  the  world  to  me." 

Tell  me,  tell  me,  maiden  fair, 
With  thy  wealth  of  golden  hair ; 
And  thine  eyes  of  Saxon  blue 
With  the  love-light  gleaming  through ; 
Of  this  wondrous  magic  boat 
Out  upon  the  waves  afloat ; 
Where  it  sails?  from  whence  it  came? 
What  is  the  good  captain's  name  ? 

Then  she  answered,  dreamily. 
Gazing  far  out  o'er  the  sea — 
"  Once  in  childhood's  sunny  hours, 
While  upon  a  bank  of  flowers, 
Hope  came  whispering  to  me. 


126     WHEN  MY  SHIP  COMES  IN  FROM  SEA. 

'  Send  your  boat  far  out  to  sea.' 
Then  I  let  him  take  the  helm, 
Pilot  of  the  dreamer's  realm." 

''  Fancy  is  the  captain  bold 
Sailing  over  seas  of  gold  ; 
I  have  watched,  ah !  many  a  day 
Since  he  took  my  boat  away, 
Dreaming  of  my  castles  grand 
In  some  sunny  tropic  land, 
Waiting  safely  there  for  me 
Till  my  ship  comes  in  from  sea." 

Years  have  passed — the  maiden  fair 
Stands  no  more  with  golden  hair ; 
But  a  woman,  sad  and  gray. 
Where  the  lengthening  shadows  stray. 
Close  beside  the  mystic  shore 
Hears  the  boatman's  muffled  oar ; 
Turns  and  whispers  unto  me — 
"  Now  my  ship  comes  in  from  sea." 

Over  yonder,  'mid  the  stars. 
They  have  drawn  the  golden  bars. 
Shutting  all  the  light  from  me. 
Till  upon  the  jasper  sea 
I  shall  see  my  tiny  craft 
Where  the  heavenly  breezes  waft. 
Anchored  near  the  snow-white  throne 
Where  the  Saviour  calls  his  own. 


NO   GOD.  127 


>[o   G[od. 


'  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  '  There  is 
no  God/" 


N 


O  God? 

Throughout  the  boundless  realm  of  space 

Dare  you  say  there's  no  God  ? 
Who  holds  each  planet  in  its  place, 
And  whose  Almighty  hand  doth  trace 
Those  mysteries  in  Nature's  face, 

Unless  it  is  our  God  ? 

No  God? 
Who  taught  the  little  bird  to  sing, 

And  deftly  weave  its  nest? 
Who  made  the  insect's  tiny  wing? 
Who  caused  the  echo's  voice  to  ring? 
Who  bade  the  lovely  flowers  spring 

From  mother  Earth's  warm  breast  ? 

No  God? 
Who  piled  the  mountain's  towering  peak, 

Those  giants  of  the  earth  ? 
Who  bade  the  awful  thunder  speak, 
Who  threw  the  lurid  lightning's  streak. 
The  great  volcano  vengeance  wreak  ? 

What  gave  the  ocean  birth  ? 


128  NO   GOD. 


No  God? 
Who  placed  the  bow  in  yonder  sky  ? 

Who  lit  tlie  suns  above  ? 
Who  gathered  up  the  storm  on  high, 
Who  sends  the  whirlwind  far  and  nigh ; 
Who  erusheth  out  the  Stonn-Fiend's  cry? 

Who  keeps  us  with  his  love  ? 

No  God? 
Whom  can  we  turn  to  in  all  time  ? 

And  what  is  life's  great  worth 
If  we  have  nothing  more  sublime  ? 
If  we  can  reach  no  brighter  clime, 
If  we  can  hear  no  sweeter  chime 

Than  sorrow-chilling  earth  ? 

No  God  ? 
Through  the  great  portals,  pearly  white. 

We  see  a  Father's  love. 
We  know  the  soul  shall  know  no  night ; 
But  upward,  through  the  worlds  of  light. 
The  disembodied  spirit's  flight 

Will  tend  to  worlds  above. 

With  God 
No  chains  shall  shackle  the  free  soul ; 

No  sorrow  crush  it  down. 
It  spurns  all  weight,  save  love's  control : 
There  Christ  shall  make  th  'imperfect  whole, 
And  while  eternity  shall  roll 

T  'will  wear  His  loving  crown. 

There  is  a  God. 
Then  let  your  infidelity 


NO   GOD.  129 


Out  into  chaos  go, 
And  seek  the  soul's  true  liberty, 
Where  God  and  angels  roaming  free. 
Shall  feel  through  all  eternity 

The  rest  earthlings  ne'er  know. 


130  ORANGE  BLOOM  CHAINS, 


Oi'kii^e  Bloonq  Cl\kiq^. 


T    ITTLE  Maid  with  nut-brown  hair, 
^ — '     Seeming,  oh  !  so  wondrous  fair  ! 

'Neath  the  orange  tree's  sweet  perfume, 

Weaving  from  their  snowy  bloom 
Fairy  chains,  to  bind  another 

Playmate,  in  our  tropic  clime. 
Where  no  harsh  decree  may  smother 

Life's  delicious  summer  time. 

Catch  her  lightly,  fairy  chain, 
Captive  fear  no  weary  pain, 

Happy  love  of  childhood  years. 

Knows  not  grief's  destroying  tears. 
Gayly  as  the  sunbeams  quiver 

Through  the  ever-dancing  leaves, 
Down  life's  softly  flowing  river. 

Dream  the  dream  that  fancy  weaves. 

Captive,  captor  here  again. 

Weave  once  more  your  orange  chain ; 
Snowy  blooms  from  southern  climes, 
Whisper  softly  bridal  rhymes ; 

May  the  words  so  lightly  spoken, 
Ever  be  a  holy  vow ; 


ORANGE  BLOOM  CHAINS,  131 

May  the  hearts  enfold  the  token 
Bound  as  firmly  then  as  now. 

Love's  delicious  dream  of   life 
Hears  no  sorrow,  sees  no  strife ; 

Golden-crowned  are  all  thy  days, 

Down  your  dream-environed  ways ; 
Catching  a  bright  glimpse  of  heaven 

In  the  light  of  dreamy  eyes. 
Thinking  that  your  love  might  even 

Make  of  earth  a  paradise. 

Hands  of  love,  but  once  again, 
Weave  for  her  the  snowy  chain ; 

Softly,  sweetly  be  her  sleep. 

Spirit  that  we  could  not  keep ; 
Bind  upon  her  silent  bosom  , 

Little  snowy  quiet  hands, 
With  the  fragrant  orange  blossoms 

Woven  into  bridal  bands. 

Weep,  oh !  heart,  ye  may  not  go 
Where  the  darksome  waters  flow  ; 

She  hath  crossed  the  troubled  tide, 

Reached  the  golden-lighted  side ; 
Oh !  mystery  all  unrevealed, 

We  ask,  and  ask  again  of  thee 
Who  holds  the  scepter  and  the  shield, 

What  is  life,  death,  eternity  ? 


132  THE  REFRAIN. 


^lie    f{efi^kir|. 


n^HROUGH  the  soft  evening  shades, 
^       As  the  sun  sinks  to  rest, 
While  his  fingers  of  gold 
Touch  the  mountain's  white  crest ; 
Comes  the  longing  for  that 
Which  this  earth  cannot  give, 
'T  is  the  longing  for  rest, 
Where  unrest  doth  live ; 
And  yet,  deep  in  my  heart 
A  sweet  echo  doth  steal, 
Saying,  "Earth  hath  no  sorrow 
Which  Heaven  cannot  heal." 

The  refrain  of  the  words 
I  cannot  drive  away. 
They  remain  in  my  heart. 
Still  determined  to  stay ; 
They  have  found  broken  chords 
In  the  life  that  is  past. 
Where  the  memory  of  old 
Links  the  Now^  and  Then  fast 
There  the  words  of  a  Saviour, 
The  child-heart  could  feel. 
Teaching,  "  Earth  hath  no  sorrow 
Which  Heaven  cannot  heal." 


THE  REFRAIN.  133 


Ah !  in  all  of  the  years 

That  have  come  and  have  gone ; 

They  were  borne  by  unrest, 

Surging  on,  ever  on, 

O'er  the  rough,  restless  waves 

Of  a  life  tempest-driven ; 

Where  a  life  and-  a  soul 

From  each  other  were  riven. 

Oh !  heart  tried  and  weary, 

When  will  you  ever  feel 

That  "Earth  hath  no  sorrow        * 

Which  Heaven  cannot  heal"? 


134  DEAD  HOPES. 


f)ekd    Hope^. 


T~^EAD  hopes  are  drifting  everywhere, 
-*-^     Like  autumn  leaves  upon  a  stream ; 
We  see  them  dying  here  and  there, 

Where  Fate  hath  crushed  life's  rosy  dream. 
In  youth's  bright  morn  they  blossom  fair. 

And  lift  their  golden  petals  high ; 
Yet  when  they  reach  life's  poisoned  air, 

They  quickly  droop  their  heads  and  die. 

Upon  the  restless  tide  of  life. 

They  pass  us  by  with  every  wave, 
Crushed  by  the  tumult  and  the  strife. 

Within  our  hearts  we  hold  the  grave. 
Ah !  there  are  hopes  that  love  hath  reared. 

Till  cruel  Fate  the  flower  stole ; 
The  cold  world  at  our  treasure  sneered, 

Yet  memory  folds  it  in  her  scroll. 

We  turn  to  gather  up  our  dead 

Hopes,  of  the  near  and  distant  past ; 

Here  's  where  the  wounded  heart  hath  bled, 
To  its  crushed  idol  clinging  fast. 

But  oh !  we  could  not  see  the  clay. 
We  tak#  the  tinsel  oft  for  gold ; 


DEAD  HOPES,  135 


And  when  our  hearts  refuse  to  pray, 
We  find  it  soiled,  still  and  cold. 

Poor  human  hearts  cling  on  for  aye ; 

The  waters  of  Lethe  may  roll ; 
The  dead  hopes  blasted  in  a  day 

May  sometime  crown  the  weary  soul. 
Cling  on,  the  Resurgam  will  rise. 

The  troubled  waters  calm  and  still ; 
And  Love  and  Hope  will  light  your  eyes. 

Beneath  the  beauty  of  their  will. 


136  THE  BROOK. 


Ylie  Si'ook. 


OH,  stay,  little  brook,  as  your  waters  flow  by, 
Rolling  swiftly  the  old  bridge  under ; 
Do  you  ever  list  to  the  passionate  cry 

Of  hearts  that  are  torn  asunder  ? 
Are  all  of  your  days  'neath  this  summery  sky 

Filled  with  joy,  you  clear,  happy  rover? 
Do  n't  you  think  you  could  tell  me  a  tale  if  you  'd  try 
Of  some  one  and  somebody's  lover  ? 

Ah  !  I  know  very  well,  you  mischievous  elf, 

Of  last  night,  how  four  went  out  walking. 
For  one  of  that  party,  I  think,  was  myself. 

And  the  others  ? — ah !  well,  they  were  talking 
Of  the  beautiful  things  in  youth's  rosy  flush ; 

Perhaps  there  were  vows  they  were  making — 
Not  thinking  the  future's  cold  mandate  may  crush 

Each  thought  till  the  heart  seemeth  breaking. 

The  stars  may  look  down,  yet  they  never  will  tell, 
For  how  many  secrets  they  're  keeping ! 

And  the  zephyrs  flit  by,  yet  whisper  "  'T  is  well,"     ' 
Down,  down  through  night's  corridors  sweeping. 

Each  life  has  its  dream  of  beauty  and  love. 
Where  the  future  is  all  sunny  weather. 


THE  BROOK,  137 


And  Peace,  like  a  beautiful,  white-winged  dove. 
May  fold  all  her  plumes  together — 

And  promise  to  stay  in  your  heart  of  hearts, 

And  dwell  in  yonr  home  forever. 
If  you  bind  him  close  with  Love's  beautiful  arts, 

So  firmly  no  doubt  can  sever. 
The  mountains  look  down  cold,  calmly  to-night. 

Untouched  by  the  same  old,  old  story ; 
Yet  the  stars  shed  around  us  a  softer  light, 

Painting  life  in  primeval  glory. 

Ah  !  well  for  the  present ;  the  future  wall  come. 

The  night  will  be  merged  in  to-morrow, 
And  Fate  only  can  tell  where  shall  be  our  home. 

As  she  gives  to  us  joy  or  sorrow. 
Yet  bravely  we'll  bear  it,  whatever  it  be,* 

Until,  reaching  the  cold  silent  river. 
The  cross  is  laid  down,  and  the  soul  shall  be  free. 

Unshackled  forever  and  ever. 


7* 


138  ROBES. 


f^obe^. 


^  I  'ELL  me,  tell  rae,  darling  Mary, 

^       As  the  sunset  lingers  long, 
And  you  watch  the  Day  King  marching. 

To  his  fortress,  high  and  strong — 
Clad  in  robes  of  gold  and  purple, 

Marching  on  his  kingly  way ; 
Snowy  clouds,  his  courtiers,  follow, 

Waiting  on  the  King  of  Day. 

Tell  me,  darling,  tell  me  truly. 

Watching  the  picture  rich  and  bright. 
Long  you  for  the  robes  so  golden. 

Or  for  those  of  purest  white  ? 
There  are  robes  on  earth,  my  Mary, 

We  may  weave  them  as  we  will ; 
If  we  choose  the  robes  all  golden, 

Our  hearts  are  heavy  still. 

If  we  choose  the  robes  of  purple. 
We  may  win  a  world's  renown ; 

But  what  will  it  bring  us,  Mary, 
If  we  wear  a  thorny  crown  ? 

Robes  of  silk  and  robes  of  satin 
Often  cover  broken  hearts  ; 


ROBES.  139 

And  the  gold  band,  diamond-studded, 
Ne'er  can  buy  Love's  mystic  arts. 

Choose  the  robes  of  white,  dear  Mary, 

Emblems  of  sweet  Peace  and  Truth ; 
Go  and  drink  of  that  clear  fountain 

Flowing  with  eternal  youth. 
You  shall  hear  the  grandest  anthem 

Of  the  songs  by  angels  sung; 
Where  sweet  youth  is  fresh  forever, 

And  the  aged,  too,  grow  young. 


140  LITTLE  LU. 


I<ittle    I^u. 


T    AUGHING  little  Lu 
-* — '      Is  coming  here  to  me, 
With  her  kisses  true, 
Bonny,  blithe,  and  free. 

Knowing  naught  of  sorrow. 

Ever  gay  and  free, 
Thinking  that  each  morrow 

Brings  a  jubilee. 

"With  her  loving  arts. 

Little  curly  head, 
Lifting  from  our  hearts 

Many  weights  of  lead. 

She 's  our  store  of  gold. 
Merry  mischief  wild. 

In  our  hearts  we  hold 
Nothing  like  our  child. 

May  our  Father's  love 

Keep  her  free  from  guile  ; 

Angels  up  above 

Watch  her  all  the  while. 


MAMMA'S  KISS.  141 


^kmmkV^    Ki^^. 


O'ER  the  study  floor  patter  little  feet, 
Through  the  open  door  came  the  voices  sweet  : 

"  Mamma  ?  Where  is  mamma  ?  "  little  Lucy  cries ; 
Mamma  answers,  ''  Here,  love  " — hither  Lucy  flies. 

Sister 's  hurt  the  hand  Lucy  brings  to  me ; 

"  Kiss  it,  mamma  dear,  make  it  well,"  says  she. 

Mamma's  kiss  upon  it,  Lucy's  hand  is  well ; 
What  magic  's  in  the  kiss,  love  alone  can  tell. 


142  DEATH'S  RIVER. 


f)ektli'^  ^ivei^. 


DARK  and  rapid  ran  the  waters, 
As  our  darling  wandered  near ; 
When  we  knew  we  could  not  keep  her, 

Then  she  seemed  to  us  most  dear. 
Yet  she  stayed,  she  hesitated, 

Dreading  the  river  dark  and  deep, 
And  we  thought  that  she  was  dying. 
When  she  only  fell  asleep. 

When  she  woke,  her  eyes  were  beaming 

With  a  holy  sacred  light : 
'^  Mother,  I  have  seen  the  Saviour, 

And  the  angels  clothed  in  white ; 
And  I  thought  the  Saviour  called  me. 

Yet  I  did  not  dare  to,  go, 
For  Death's  dark  and  foaming  river. 

Ran  between  us  so  and  so. 

"  Then  the  Saviour's  voice  so  holy. 
With  these  words  so  low  and  kind : 

'  Trust  me,  child,  I  will  be  with  thee. 
And  in  me  a  friend  you  '11  find  ; 
It  is  but  a  step,  my  daughter, 
From  this  world  of  sin  and  woe, 


DEATH'S  RIVER,  143 

To  that  home  all  pure  and  holy, 
Where  no  sin  can  ever  go.' 

"  And  upon  the  other  shore, 

Stood  the  angels  clothed  in  white ; 
Golden  harps  were  in  their  hands ; 

On  their  brows  were  crowns  of  light ; 
When"  I  saw  them,  pure  and  holy. 

Obeying  the  Saviour's  will, 
Then  I  stepped  in  Death's  dark  river, 

Lo !  't  was  but  a  little  rill. 

"  Weep  not  mother,  darling  mother. 

For  me  do  not  shed  a  tear ; 
If  the  Saviour's  hand  uphold  me, 

I  can  go  without  a  fear ; 
And  I  know,  my  dearest  mother. 

If  I  but  obey  His  will. 
That  Death's  dark  and  foaming  river, 

Will  be  but  a  little  rill." 


[XTNIVERSITTj 


144  ORPHAN'S  PRAYER. 


Vlie  Oi'j)l\kr^'>'^  ^i'd.jti. 


IT  was  a  dark  and  stormy  night, 
An  orphan  kneeled  to  pray ; 
Beside  her  mother's  lonely  grave, 
In  churchyard  dim  and  gray. 

"  O  !  Father,  unto  thee  I  pray. 

That  Thou  wilt  take  me  home  ; 
And  let  it  be  thy  will,  oh !  God, 
To  bid  me  to  thee  come. 

"  I  long  to  see  thy  blessed  face, 
That  land  where  all  is  bright. 
To  see  thy  holy  city.  Lord, 

Where  there  shall  be  no  night." 

That  night  a  shining  angel  came, 
To  churchyard  dark  and  cold. 

And  led  her  up  through  pearly  gates. 
To  heavenly  streets  of  gold. 

Serenely  clear  the  morning  dawned, 
The  storm  had  passed  away ; 

No  living  eyes  beside  that  grave. 
Welcomed  the  King  of  Day. 


SPRING.  145 


^pi'iH^. 


OH  !  come  thou  fair  queen, 
With  thy  carpet  of  green, 
And  thy  robe  of  gay  sheen, 
Bright  Spring  of  the  year. 

Like  some  fair  water  sprite. 
With  thy  sweet  flowers  bright, 
And  thy  soft  warm  light, 
Is  to  all  of  us  dear. 

King  Winter  is  dying, 
The  wild  wmd  is  sighing, 
The  Spring  rain  is  sobbing, 
A  liquid  refrain. 

Clouds  vail  the  blue  sky, 
Northward  the  birds  fly. 
And  we  all  of  us  sigh, 

For  Spring's  beauties  again. 


146  PITY. 


fity. 


LOOKING  from  the  window  while  waiting, 
And  watching  the  crowd  in  the  street, 
Listening  to  the  idle  debating 

Of  women  I  there  chanced  to  meet ; 
When  one  entered,  fair  in  her  beauty — 

The  others  shrank  back  in  alarm  ; 
'T  was  clear  she  had  failed  in  life's  duty. 
Yet  the  fair,  sweet  face  had  its  charm. 

She  stayed  but  a  moment,  yet  stillness 

Had  chained  every  garrulous  tongue  ; 
The  very  air  put  on  a  chillness. 

Through  which  the  cold  glances  were  flung. 
I  looked  from  the  fallen  to  the  pure. 

There  were  some  believed  in  Christ's  name ; 
And  I  thought.  How  can  she  endure 

The  scorn  that  is  cast  at  her  shame  ? 

When  she  left,  not  a  word  of  pity, 
But  only  of  reproach  and  blame, 

A  sigh  that  our  beautiful  city 

Should  be  cursed  with  such  a  dark  shame. 

Oh !  women  who  call  on  the  Master, 
Are  ye  sisters,  mothers,  and  wives, 


PITY.  147 

That  ye  roll  down  the  burden  faster 
On  these  poor,  broken,  wretched  lives  ? 

Ah  !  have  ye  no  word  of  compassion, 

For  is  innocence  lost  not  enough  ? 
Then  check  the  cold  words  ye  would  fashion 

So  scornfully,  cruelly  rough  ; 
Not  many  the  years  that  have  flown. 

Since  she  was  an  innocent  child ; 
The  secrets  of  sin  were  unknown, 

When  she  lived  'neath  her  mother's  smile. 

Perhaps  when  the  night  shades  are  falling 

And  the  shadows  and  twilight  play, 
Some  loving  hearts  anxiously  calling. 

And  perhaps  they  kneel  down  and  pray 
For  the  prodigal,  outcast  rover, 

Whose  dark  sin  hath  poisoned  the  air ; 
Her  mother,  the  first,  truest  lover. 

Perhaps  she  is  now  praying  there. 

Do  you  think,  oh  !   pharisee  woman. 

Had  temptation  dark  crossed  your  path  ? 
Ah !   stop,  ye  are  only  human. 

With  no  more  strength  than  she  hath  ; 
"  Judge  ye  not,"  hear  the  soft  echo  stealing. 

He  watcheth  the  evil  and  good. 
And  the  secrets  of  thought  past  revealing. 

Are  by  our  Grod  understood. 

Ye  have  daughters — bright,  beautiful  maidens, 

Whose  smile  is  the  light  of  your  home, 
Do  you  know  how  their  future  is  laden, 


148  PITY. 

That  ye  darken  the  outcast's  doom  ? 
And  is  her  lost  soul  not  worth  saving, 

That  you  would  condemn  her  for  aye  ? 
Do  you  know  the  deep,  heart-sick  craving, 

That  calleth  to  you  night  and  day  ? 


TOO  LATE.  149 


¥00    I<kte. 


PAST,  all  the  sadness  and  sorrow, 
Past,  all  the  trial  and  pain ; 
Never  again  shall  the  morrow 

Waken  the  hopes  that  are  vain ; 
Never  again  shall  the  longings, 
Weaving  their  mystical  part. 
Come  where  life's  visions  are  thronging, 
Waking  thy  death-quiet  heart. 

Far  from  thy  home  where  the  shadow 

Of  winter  hangs  o'er  the  earth. 
Mantling  the  mount  and  the  meadow, 

Bringing  to  winter  new  worth  ; 
Here,  where  you  sought  for  the  treasure, 

Precious  to  monarch  or  slave — 
Health,  and  its  manifold  pleasure — 

You  have  found  only  a  grave. 

Only  a  grave,  ah  !  a  vision 

Steals  through  the  shadows  of  night ; 
You  have  found  life's  best  elysium 

Bright  in  the  realm  of  light ; 
Safe  in  the  great  court  of  Heaven — 

Never  a  tear  or  a  sigh ; 


150  TOO  LATE. 


Now  unto  you  it  is  given, 

The  knowledge  of  life  on  high. 

Fair  stranger,  sweet  be  thy  slumber. 

Softly  the  green  trees  will  wave ; 
Flora's  rich  tributes  unnumbered, 

Their  fragrance  will  wreathe  thy  grave ; 
The  orange  and  lemon  surround  thee, 

Beauty  of  life  everywhere ; 
Yet  the  angel  of  death  hath  crowned  thee. 

And  called  from  thy  home  "  over  there." 

"  Over  there,*'  our  angels  are  waiting. 

In  the  great  palace  of  God  ; 
We,  with  our  hands  on  the  grating. 

Our  souls  passing  under  the  rod ; 
Wait  till  the  prison  bars  falling. 

And  the  tired  spirit  is  free ; 
Ah !   then  we  shall  hear  them  calling 

Upward  to  God  and  to  thee. 


LINES.  151" 


I<ir|e^ 


Written  upon  hearing  a  Young  Lady  sing  "  Bird 
of  the  Mountain." 

h.     STRANGER  in  the  concert  hall, 
-^~^     Where  minstrel  voices  sing, 
I  heard  one,  sweetest  of  them  all. 

Her  bird-like  tribute  bring ; 
No  music  from  the  ivory  keys 

Could  half  its  sweetness  hold. 
"  Bird  of  the  Mountain,"  where  man  sees 

Life's  grandest  scroll  unfold, 
You  have  a  rival  in  this  vale 

By  San  Diego's  Bay, 
Where  even  you  dare  not  assail 

To  steal  her  notes  away. 

Oh !   daughter  of  a  golden  clime, ' 

Oh !   bird-like  voice  so  rare. 
You  bring  to  me  another  time 

Where  memory's  treasures  are  ; 
I  look  adown  life's  shadowy  aisles, 

I  hear  her  sweetest  song, 
*   I  see  dear  faces  rise  and  smile, 

That  have  been  dead  so  long ; 
You  haunt  me  with  your  melody, 

Oh !    spirit-voices  sweet. 


152  LINES. 

"  Bird  of  the  Mountain,"  happy,  free, 
Your  life  is  all  complete. 

May  blessings  follow  in  thy  train 

Where'er  thy  feet  may  stray, 
O'er  pleasure's  flower-strewn  plain. 

And  love's  star-lighted  way ; 
May  the  small  cares  that  make  up  life 

Be  lit  by  golden  beams, 
To  melt  all  sorrow,  care,  and  strife, 

And  leave  you  the  joy  dreams ; 
Bright  flowers  blossom  all  around. 

And  may  each  fairy  elf 
Keep  safe  in  consecrated  ground 

A  lily,  like — yourself. 


LOS  ANGELES.  153 


I<o^  ^ri^ele^. 


T^ID  you  e'er  roam  in  this  beautiful  place, 
^-^  Where  the  orange  trees'  golden  fruit 
Hangs  in  richest  clusters  over  your  face, 

And  breezes  are  sweet  as  the  lute  ? 
Oh !  here  is  the  place  where  the  fairies  dwell. 
And  here's  where  they  weave  their  mystic  spell. 

Did  you  ever  see  these  clusters  so  white — 

The  beautiful  bridal  flowers, 
Where  the  sky  is  so  blue,  the  sun  so  bright. 

They  beguile  all  the  passing  hours  ? 
Did  you  e'er  stray  in  the  lovely  bowers 
While  fairies  slept  in  the  orange  flowers  ? 

Did  you  ever  visit  the  vineyards  vast, 

With  the  luscious  fruit  all  around, 
And  dreamt  the  vineyards  of  bright,  sunny  France 

Had  crossed  the  broad  sea  at  a  bound  ? 
Ah,  no !  they  are  ours — our  bright,  golden  shore 
The  wealth  of  a  nation  has  yet  in  its  store. 

This  is  Natures  beautiful  palace  home. 

With  an  orchestra  all  her  own ; 
Clad  in  red  and  gold  the  choristers  come 
8 


154  LOS  ANGELES, 


With  a  song  to  the  north  unknown. 
Hither  and  thither  they  flit  through  bowers, 
Drinking  the  nectar  enclosed  in  flowers 

Flora's  fair  court  in  our  valley  is  held ; 

Here  the  flowers  of  every  clime 
Bow  at  her  feet  with  their  wealth  of  perfume — 

Their  blooms  ever  seem  in  their  prime. 
We'll  weave  a  wreath  of  her  brightest  and  best, 
As  a  floral  tribute  from  the  far  southwest. 

Here  stand  old  'dobes,  built  long  years  before 

You  or  I  saw  the  light  of  the  sun ; 
What  tales  they  could  tell ;  what  songs  could  sing — 

What  happiness  here  lost  or  won. 
Bright-eyed    Spanish   maids   with    orange   blooms 

crowned, 
Or  the  soul's  deep  despair  in  heart-blood  drowned. 

Come  you  to  the  City  of  Angels  now, 
While  Nature's  bright  carpet  of  green 

Is  spread  over  valley,  plateau  and  hill. 
And  Spring  is  our  beautiful  queen. 

King  Winter,  defiant,  looks  with  a  frown 

Where  he  never  can  claim  Spring's  floral  crown. 

He  rules  in  the  mountains,  strong  in  his  might. 
Snow-crowned  in  his  realm  so  high — 

His  subjects  the  grizzly,  lion  and  deer — 
His  white  crown  seems  piercing  the  sky. 

Well,  let  him  reign  there — he  never  can  come. 

Bringing  bleak  desolation  to  our  sweet  home. 


LOS  ANGELES.  155 


To  the  coast ! — the  coast ! — and  we  haste  away 

Down  to  Santa  Monica's  vale, 
Where  hoary  old  Nej^tune  casts  up  at  our  feet, 

His  treasures  so  fair  and  so  frail. 
Never  was  nature  so  truly  prolific, 
As  on  the  coast  of  our  noble  Pacific. 
8# 


156  SHADOWS. 


^llkdow^. 


A   LL  calm  and  still,  the  night  is  chill, 
-^^-       The  fog-mist  hangs  so  low, 
Without  the  room,  in  spectral  gloom. 
Quaint  shadows  seem  to  go — 
Shadows  of  ofher  days,  I  ween. 
Woven  in  life's  bright,  golden  sheen. 

Of  other  days !  oh  !  the  sad  ways 

That  Memory  bids  us  tread ; 
The  glowing  past,  too  bright  to  last, 
Js  peopled  with  our  dead. 

There,  garnered  safe  in  Memory's  store, 
A  sacred  shrine  forevermore. 

No  smiles  or  tears,  through  mists  of  years, 

Clan  move  that  pictured  face ; 
No  quick  surprise,  O  radiant  eyes ! 

^Can  with  you  find  a  place.  * 

Yet,  oh  !  my  heart,  you  long  to  know 
Where  the  free  soul  will  ever  go. 

Up  from  the  sod,  back,  back  to  God, 
Lifting  itself  above 


SHADOWS.  rsi 


The  earthly  cares  of  hopes  and  fears, 
As  upward  flies  the  dove ; 

Finding  its  home  near  the  jasper  sea, 
Where  time  is  lost  in  eternity. 


158  CALIFORNIA. 


dalifoi'i\ia. 


1VT  OT  alone  where  the  City  of  Angels  reposes, 
^  ^      Nestling  down  at  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
Nor  in  the  beauty  her  orange  groves  discloses, 

Where  its  perfume  the  balmy  air  fills ; 
Is  all  of  the  grandeur  which  thrills  us  with  rapture. 

But  where  nature  's  so  proudly  sublime. 
That  we  count  back  the  years,  forgetting  the  future. 

Seeing  only  the  grand  marks  of  time. 

Then  give  me  your  mind,  and  far  over  the  valley, 

I  will  lead  you  to  my  childhood  home ; 
Where  the  miners  sang  out  their  prospecting  sally, 

There  ever  seeking  the  gold  as  they  roam. 
Where  the  tops  of  the  trees  seem  to  reach  to  heaven, 

And  Sierra  Nevada,  snow-crowned. 
Looks  down  o'er  the  valley  from  daylight  till  even, 

'Tis  there  echo  repeats  the  glad  sound. 

Where  El  Dorado  still  hides  her  nuggets  of  gold. 

And  the  stamp  of  the  quartz-mill  is  heard. 
And  there  Placerville,  too,  with  her  treasures  untold. 

And  Coloma,  whose  orchards  engird 
The  bright  little  village,  where  long  years  ago 

The  first  precious  golden  ore  was  found  ; 
Ever  since  then  the  muddy  waters'  flow 

Sing  of  the  gold  elf  under  the  ground. 


CALIFORNIA.  159 


And  then  there  are  the  hills  which  encircled  Sly 
Fork, 

Where  my  brother  and  I  oft  have  played, 
Come,  listen  to  the  song  of  the  stone-breaker  lark, 

Through  the  grand  old  woods  we  have  oft  strayed, 
To  gather  the  lilies  which  towered  so  high, 

Lifting  up  their  sweet  blossoms  of  snow ; 
And  the  clear  mountain  stream  underneath  the  blue 
sky, 

Where  the  silver-trout  dart  to  and  fro. 

My  home  has  always  been  in  the  fair  Golden  State, 

And  I  love  both  her  mountains  and  vales ; 
There  are  legends,  also,  all  too  long  to  relate, 

Of  the  miners  who've  worked  in  her  dales; 
Yet  not  only  for  these  do  I  love  my  bright  home, 

Now  she  holds  all  the  heart  ere  held  dear  ; 
The  friends  of  my  childhood  will  never  more  roam 

Till  eternity  claims  the  last  year. 

My  heart  would  be  here  though  I  dwelt  in  other 
lands, 
'T  is  here  Nature's  rare  beauties  are  crowned 
With  God's  best,  fairest  gifts   scattered  over  our 
strands. 
From  mountains  to  where  white  waves  rebound ; 
And  w^hen  you  shall  roam  'neath  our  blossoms  of 
snow. 
Then  may  beauty  and  friendship  all  tend 
To  bind  your  heart  here  where  the  soft  zephyrs  blow, 
Until  then,  Adios^  gentle  Friend 


UNIVEHSITTJ 


▼''^^Ar) 


Jt 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


